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48

The sun was setting behind the city wall, painting the houses and streets in bloody tones that mingled with long shadows. The people looked like the living dead, behind each of them trailed black melting smoke. They were sick and dying, and nothing could help them. Deya walked among them, barefoot, dressed only in a linen shirt. Her loose blond hair was tousled and confused by the unfriendly wind. It was cold, she hugged her shoulders chillily and tried to call out to one of the people, but they did not hear her. She couldn't make out their faces.

She walked forward until she came to the square, in the center of which was a giant fire. Black flames flared up at her approach, and doused her with grave cold instead of heat.

Deya backed away, but a voice stopped her. Someone alien and dangerous stepped out of the crowd and stopped behind her shoulder. Deya did not dare to turn her head, frozen in place and not feeling her body.

-That's what awaits you here. - Said the voice indifferently
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