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From her vantage on her command ship, Mirian could distinguish Annita even at a distance from her distinctive eyepatch. Her hunters were spread out in an arc in the forest, with stone walls woven through the trees. With them, she could make out the drab robes of the Cult of Zomalator, ready to act as healers. Lecne looked up at her as her airship circled. The cult wasn’t exactly trained in battle, but life had hardened them in other ways. Plus, of all the allies she’d gathered, they kne ...
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