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Chapter 33 - 32: The crimson lotus
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... of quiet sorrow. He lived in a small, stone cottage at the edge of the village, where the forest’s edge kissed the rolling hills. His mother, a frail woman with hair like spun gold and eyes as gentle as the morning sky, always smelled of herbs and wildflowers. She spent her days tending to their little garden, her fingers stained with soil, yet her touch always felt soft and tender.
His father, a towering figure with broad shoulders and a permanent scowl, worked as a blacksmith in the vi ...
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