The midnight silence of Drakonhold was broken only by the mournful howl of the mountain wind through the stone crenellations. Lyra sat cross-legged on the thick polar bear pelt before the hearth, her mother's grimoire open upon her lap. The ancient pages, written in shimmering silver ink, seemed to glow in resonance with the blue flames. According to the grimoire, the Caldera bloodline did not originate from the human lowlands…
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