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... Alaric turned back towards the mansion, a thoughtful expression clouding his ruby eyes. He had played the gracious host, the dutiful artifact creator, but beneath the surface of polite smiles and measured words, a sense of unease lingered. Saintess Ceanna Paxton, despite her serene façade, radiated an undercurrent of… something. Antagonism? Distrust? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but the subtle tension had not escaped his notice.

’She’s watching me,’ Alaric mused, his thoughts ...

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