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The night was pitch black.

No stars, no moon.

The forest was alive with the howling winds of the night, and the distant hooting of an owl could be heard.

Ronan slowly broke twigs in his hands, throwing them into the flickering campfire before him, listening to the slight crackling sound as the flames consumed the dry wood.

Beside him stood about twenty people, all wearing long robes.

Everyone surrounded the fire, occasionally murmuring to ...

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