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... s laughably ordinary—just a plain, square wooden box with no carvings, no metal clasps, nothing to set it apart. Yet the moment her fingers brushed its surface, she felt a subtle resistance, like the wood itself was alive.
She turned it in her hands, squinting under the sunlight. Nothing. No shimmer, no secret engravings, no faint glow like she half expected. She pressed her nails along the seams, searching for a keyhole, a hidden latch, even the faintest bump that might serve as a butto ...
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