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... ots sloshing against toxic puddles, until they reached a strange path...
Silent, almost untouched by the swamp's decay.
No insects buzzed here, no twisted reeds coiled underfoot. It was still.
There, in the middle of the mire, was a worn wooden chair that looked like it had been plucked from a countryside porch and dropped into the swamp like a forgotten relic.
Sitting upon it was not the childlike form of Celestia he'd encountered before...
But an aged wo ...
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