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... s Remember the Fires
The cult’s bacchanalia had lost its novelty by the time an hour rolled by. I had gotten precisely as much entertainment as one can from watching people grind on crystalline columns while chanting my name and vomiting up glow-in-the-dark mushrooms. Even Kimchi—who had curled into my lap like a lazy lynx—was starting to doze between sips of nectar.
With a mild sigh and a theatrical stretch, I nudged her off. "Alright, off you go, squishling. Papa needs to mingl ...
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