While passion burned in the mountain heights of Shadow Ridge, dark conspiracies festered in the lowlands of Silvercrest. In the subterranean council vaults beneath the Silvercrest manor, Jackson Vance slammed his silver goblet onto the stone table, spilling vintage red wine across tactical battle maps. "The Conclave made a mockery of us!" Jackson raged, his eyes bloodshot, his blond hair disheveled. "They made me bow to her! To Drake! A…
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