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... e, but absence.
The wind here did not whistle; it remembered.
Darius stood at the threshold of a wasteland dotted with toppled thrones, broken scepters, and statues decayed by neglect. A valley of abandoned reigns.
Kaela walked beside him, her fingers dancing in the air, flickering with uncertain sigils that responded to memory more than magic. Nyx trailed them like a wraith, her eyes narrowed.
"They call this place the Sepulcher ...
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