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... g longer than the morning sun warranted. Sophia kept the wards shimmering faintly along the banks, weaving them into the dirt and stone, threading her magic like a spider weaving a web delicate enough not to alert the river—but strong enough to mask us.
Sarah led, silent as the mist curling over broken docks, while I followed, listening to the soft gurgle of water and the occasional creak of rope from abandoned boats. Every ripple seemed purposeful, every wave a whispered warning. We wer ...
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