Two Hundred and Sixty-Two. Revenge (41, Three K)

The fog swept from the kingdom of the dead, covering everything. The mist held him gently, and began to drift in a filthy stream.

In a trance, Torreus thought he seemed to be floating on the wind. He felt as if he had become a dead leaf, rolled around by the wind, and would be crushed ruthlessly by a falling foot at some point.

He was afraid—he admitted it.

Facing death fearlessly is one thing, but the real experience

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