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... hifting and breathing around them, grew utterly still. No leaves rustled. No birds flew. Even the silver-glowing canopy above had dulled, as though it, too, had gone quiet in anticipation.

At the end of the path was a circle of stones—twelve in all, arranged with uncanny precision around a hollow depression in the earth. The soil there was black, not from rot, but from age. Whatever had grown there once had long since withered away.

In the center of the circle was a single stone ...

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