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... smooth marble, ancient, polished, unmarked by age. Around him stretched a vast hall of impossible geometry, its walls curving like the inside of a shell. Thin golden lines pulsed through the stone, veins of mana still alive after millennia. The air smelled faintly of ash and rain.
Ashwing hovered, eyes wide, wings half-folded. "This… isn't a ruin," he whispered. "It's like they built it yesterday."
Lindarion's gaze swept the chamber. "No dust. No decay. This place was sealed by ...
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