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... ered it so vividly. When the world was still theirs, no pesky humans, demi-humans, just them and only them.
Perched precariously on the edge of a moss-covered cliff. The wind, redolent with the scent of a thousand unknown flowers, whipped through her hair, carrying the chirps and whistles of thousands creatures. Below her sprawled Aethel, their utopia that unfolded like a living beautiful painting. Sunlight, filtered through a swarm of leaves that shimmered with a iridescence, bathed the ...
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