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81

All faces turned to the alien, people eagerly listened to his words, waiting for an explanation. Tink bit his lip until it bled, not drops, but trickles of blood flowed down his chin. He didn't have time to answer. A dusty cloud shot up over the rift and knuckles appeared along the edge - white-yellow, sharpened by time and raked earth, terribly sharp.

The warriors who had arrived from Ereald began to look at each other, trembling hands clenched on the hilts of their swords, dragging the blades out. Mirovir with an involuntary grin watched the dreary misunderstanding, disbelief that was still read on their faces.

Did you hope it wasn't true, people?

The first row of skeletons swept out of the rift and quickly stepped forward, followed by the second, third, fourth... They pushed each other, tried to overtake, frantically rushed away from the open ground. The werewolf frowned. Something wasn't quite right. The army of fallen warriors did not at all resemble an army. This crush was more
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