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... into the air. They began to spin rapidly, forming a small vortex before instantly transforming into a swarm of black crows that rushed toward Jackson, emitting sounds resembling sharp caws but deeper, harsher, as if they came from the mouths of demons. The flying feathers of the crows filled the entire room.
Jackson didn’t step back or try to escape. Instead, he raised the black pen in his right hand, rolling it between his fingers before whispering incomprehensible words. The tattoos on ...
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