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The Banyan Tree Guardians at the edge of the camp swayed their branches in the wind.
Like a child drawing crooked circles in the sand, Porter, tainted by the God of Vortex’s curse, completed his task of inspecting the border and slowly moved along before the new rain fell.
The sea breeze rustling the wild grasses beside the muddy road made Porter stop and look up at the Agate Lake in the center of the camp. No matter how many times he gazed, he would always become immersed ...
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