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... the sky. Thick, gray sheets poured endlessly as Raen and Lyra stepped through the warped iron gates of Darnhollow—a forgotten town nestled between cliffs carved by ancient violence and time.

It wasn't just cursed.

It reeked of something older than death.

The town was silent, save for the occasional groan of wood twisting against the wind and the distant screech of crows circling the broken bell tower. Black ichor streaked across the cobblestone like veins, pulsing faintly ...

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