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... bark, carved in a language he didn’t know, but felt. "They’re not ours."
Serena’s eyes scanned the fog. "We should move back. Whatever wrote those glyphs didn’t want us to see them."
Before Jude could respond, a rustle passed through the mist. They froze. The sound wasn’t animal. It was slow, deliberate. A shape moved behind the trees, tall, humanoid, but not a watcher. Not mist. Flesh. It vanished before they could follow.
They retreated, marking the spot with silver rib ...
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