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... ensive nonsense.

The air smelled faintly of polished silver and ancient magic, crackling softly in the background like static electricity.

"Anything I want?" I asked again, just to be sure.

Saelira smiled indulgently. "Anything, little one."

"Anything at all?"

"Yes," Ilythia confirmed. "Choose wisely."

Eryndor crossed his arms. "Or just pick the most dangerous thing."

Veylen tilted his head slightly. "Or the most practical."

Four gr ...

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