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... e.
After the Lord of Grassmere had fallen into the sorcerer’s grasp, only the sacrificial family head had ever treaded on this path.
The semi-circular stone corridor was long and eerie. The torch Chandler carried flickered with a steady crackling sound, yet the darkness in the stone wall’s cracks never faded.
Wherever the small torchlight passed, the viscous darkness immediately filled the void again. The stale air that had been still for centuries flowed between my bones ...
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