~Eira The air in the dungeons was damp with decay. Torches flickered weakly along the stone corridors, casting long shadows on the walls. The scent of mildew clung to everything, and the deeper we descended, the more silence wrapped around us like a noose. Only the occasional clink of armor or the creak of wood echoed through the halls. I led the charge, my footsteps urgent, casting a soft light ahead of me as the Cast-Outs followed. The cells were lined in rows, iron bars twisted with age and magic, holding in the surviving Lunar Sentients. Their eyes widened when they saw me. “Eira,” one whispered, reaching through the bars. I didn’t hesitate. With a flick of my fingers, the lock hissed and cracked open. “You’re safe now. We’re here to free all of you.” One by one, the cells were opened. Some of the Sentients wept, clutching our arms as they stumbled out. Others needed help standing. Many bore bruises, wounds, the marks of captivity. But one thing was clear: they were a
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