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Chapter 99: An unspoken past, between legends.

A thud sounded, and a man fell to the floor of black. Slowly, the void returned its coloring to a pure white, and all noise ceased. The sacred tree continued shining with a lush glow just meters away, as Agathon, the king of the elves, watched in disbelief.

His eyes widened, strands of graying hair crumbled to his side as his mouth went agape. With chapped, trembling lips, he spoke. “Spiritus Mora… The World Spirit... Lost?”

In the distance, Arth’Roth stood over the wounded Mora. His blade convulsed back into a black orb that soon after dispersed, and he turned to look at the spirit. Mora continued clutching his trident, nearly as strong as he was grating his teeth. A flow of bluish liquid seeped from under him, but he struggled to get up all the same.

“I’ve placed a rather mortal wound on you, Mora,” Arth’Roth spoke casually. “You should lay still, and maybe finally listen to me?”

“Screw

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