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"All flows to this point, descending down the sides of this wretched whorl. Darkest bile, sallow pus, and rotting blood drip down the sides and mingle in the death pit. But something rises from the frozen mass, from the creeping heart of treachery. Is it bound by this eternal moment? Or can it see beyond the edge of the circle, the lie of life and illusion of death?"
— Ahleir, Seer of Guelph
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