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... feet, bruised skin and tattered dress of fighting in the tunnel. Her feet were set on ground that pulsed with a heartbeat. The people gathered around her, they were chanting—a strange mixture of screams and moans. A dirge and a lullaby.

Sally was at the edge of the ring, blanketed by a cloud of red vines and moths.

From now on, Sally spoke, her voice sounding off the cold stone walls, "you're no longer blood of your blood. You are ours. You will come with me when I summon you. Yo ...

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