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... , but she wasn’t touching anything.
Her gaze was fixed on the small vial of the [Broodmother’s Ichor] that sat in front of her, its dark contents shifting like thick, oily blood. It had been days since she’d first seen it, and even still, something in her bones told her it wasn’t just an item.
It was a message, a warning, maybe even a trap.
The glow of the forge, warm and steady in the background, seemed to dim slightly as Mara narrowed her eyes, focusing more intently. < ...
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