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Chapter 2: Azael
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... w. A grave carved by ancient magic.
Twisted trees rose toward the sky, their roots crawling down black cliffs like skeletal fingers. The earth was dead, ashen and cracked. Bones and rusted weapons rotted beneath a thin veil of mist that reeked of blood and burnt flesh.
The sky above was dark gray.
At the center of the Hollow stood a ring of black stone, a natural arena. Crimson moss spread between the cracks like dried blood.
The wind whispered. Then came the soun ...
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