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... eternity, the air in the overworld was not choked with the oppressive miasma of the corrupted Gaia.

The skies were blue again, though streaked with the scars of battle—rent clouds where divine power had split the firmament, faint ripples where reality itself had been strained to breaking.

The earth still bore deep fissures and burned craters, but there was life in the wind once more.

On the walls of Herion, Varn leaned heavily on his spear.

He was bloodied, armor ...

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