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Tobius raised his right hand to his face and marveled at how much thinner it had been compared to his left. The skin on his long fingers was stretched, the nails were almost black. To the touch and color, the hand resembled a prosthesis carved from bog oak. At the same time, the limb obeyed perfectly, all the fingers were bent, nothing hurt, did not fester, only the sensitivity practically did not recover, which caused some problems. Something stuck inside after being bitten by the shadow, and what it was, Tobius certainly wanted to find out. He was faced with an unknown kind of sorcery, and who knows when the bite will still remind of itself?

Occasionally letting his eyes rest, but maintaining concentration, the wizard continued to carry out his patrol. In the heavy night stuffiness, the soul prayed for a gust of cool wind. Before, he could even have asked the few spring breeze spirits that hovered around idle during those summer months to help him, but not now that every spell came
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