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Last night, the Ferryman appeared in my dream and said,
"Be grateful."
Or something along those lines.
His tone, as always, was dreary and solemn, like a dull winter sky.
There was also a calmness to it, settled like old dust in an abandoned house, but Enkrid sensed a faint hint of mischief behind his words.
’That’s odd.’
Even the master of the ferryboat drifting across the black river could make jokes, or so it seemed to him.
But w ...
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