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... silent and foreboding. Inigo advanced first, raising his rifle as the shadows swallowed them whole. Behind him, Lyra moved with near-silent precision, her steps as light as falling leaves. The only sound between them was the faint creak of worn leather and the slow, steady click of Inigo's safety disengaging.

Just inside, the mine opened into a narrow tunnel—wooden supports bowing inward with age, beams draped in old moss and spiderwebs. A lantern wouldn't have helped here. The darkness ...

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