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... as he walked – part threat, but mostly a talisman.

He looked around, alert for any sign of scourglings. Or the fallen dragon rider.

Inside, his heart seethed.

They were close to the valley. So close that when he got glimpses down below through the tree breaks, he could pick out individual scourglings rampaging down below. The air had taken on an acidic burnt flavor. It was the tang of dead land. To Arthur, it tasted like home.

The only thing he had going for him w ...

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