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... ge after page shifted hue, the pale parchment deepening into shades of crimson. She had only spilled a few drops—yet the entire diary seemed to bleed.
Her hand trembled, thumb still hovering above the parchment. This shouldn’t be possible...
The diary pulsed faintly beneath her palm, alive, as though responding to her blood.
Soon—like a trick of magic—every word on the diary began to fade. One line at a time, one sentence after the other, vanishing as though the parchment ...
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