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Chapter 9.18 E 

Word count: 38931
Released on: Oct. 2, 2022, 1:31 a.m.
Last edited: March 16, 2023, 6:28 p.m.
Book: Unreleased (0)
Most mentioned character
503 mentions
Most mentioned class
227 mentions
Most mentioned skill
2 mentions
Most mentioned spell
1 mentions
Most mentioned location
76 mentions

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For the daughter of a legend, Wiskeria’s eyes were too normal. They were yellow and green, the two colors separate, not some blend of the two, and quite resembled a plain field of grass and daffodils on a sunlit day in nature.
Compared to her mother’s gaze—well, all Erin Solstice knew were stories. Numbtongue had described them like black rings in an orange glow, narrowing and narrowing towards the pupils without ever ending. Not that he’d gotten a good look at her up close.
Compared to her mother’s gaze—well, all Erin Solstice knew were stories. Numbtongue had described them like black rings in an orange glow, narrowing and narrowing towards the pupils without ever ending. Not that he’d gotten a good look at her up close.
Mrsha had all of Lyonette’s flowery prose, and she had stared down Belavierr longer than most beings in the entire world. She had written that Belavierr’s eyes, ‘instilled nothing so much as a grand fear within my soul, for I knew there were multitudes looking back at me, and I knew not whence they came and feared to find out.’
Mrsha had all of Lyonette’s flowery prose, and she had stared down Belavierr longer than most beings in the entire world. She had written that Belavierr’s eyes, ‘instilled nothing so much as a grand fear within my soul, for I knew there were multitudes looking back at me, and I knew not whence they came and feared to find out.’
Mrsha had all of Lyonette’s flowery prose, and she had stared down Belavierr longer than most beings in the entire world. She had written that Belavierr’s eyes, ‘instilled nothing so much as a grand fear within my soul, for I knew there were multitudes looking back at me, and I knew not whence they came and feared to find out.’
Mrsha had all of Lyonette’s flowery prose, and she had stared down Belavierr longer than most beings in the entire world. She had written that Belavierr’s eyes, ‘instilled nothing so much as a grand fear within my soul, for I knew there were multitudes looking back at me, and I knew not whence they came and feared to find out.’
Erin, for her part, feared that Mrsha was becoming an old man in her writing style. But the image that had stuck with her most was actually Kevin’s. He had the misfortune of surviving Belavierr, and while she had not declared him a personal enemy, nor had he seen her up close, he had told Erin this:
Erin, for her part, feared that Mrsha was becoming an old man in her writing style. But the image that had stuck with her most was actually Kevin’s. He had the misfortune of surviving Belavierr, and while she had not declared him a personal enemy, nor had he seen her up close, he had told Erin this:
Erin, for her part, feared that Mrsha was becoming an old man in her writing style. But the image that had stuck with her most was actually Kevin’s. He had the misfortune of surviving Belavierr, and while she had not declared him a personal enemy, nor had he seen her up close, he had told Erin this:
Erin, for her part, feared that Mrsha was becoming an old man in her writing style. But the image that had stuck with her most was actually Kevin’s. He had the misfortune of surviving Belavierr, and while she had not declared him a personal enemy, nor had he seen her up close, he had told Erin this:
Erin, for her part, feared that Mrsha was becoming an old man in her writing style. But the image that had stuck with her most was actually Kevin’s. He had the misfortune of surviving Belavierr, and while she had not declared him a personal enemy, nor had he seen her up close, he had told Erin this:
All in all, Belavierr’s mere gaze seemed like a suitable representation of the Witch of Webs, the greatest living [Witch] in this world. Wiskeria, though, was her daughter of twenty some years. She was the failure who did not encapsulate Belavierr’s dark myth, for better or for worse. She was the ordinary witch, the [General] of Riverfarm, so not that ordinary—
All in all, Belavierr’s mere gaze seemed like a suitable representation of the Witch of Webs, the greatest living [Witch] in this world. Wiskeria, though, was her daughter of twenty some years. She was the failure who did not encapsulate Belavierr’s dark myth, for better or for worse. She was the ordinary witch, the [General] of Riverfarm, so not that ordinary—
All in all, Belavierr’s mere gaze seemed like a suitable representation of the Witch of Webs, the greatest living [Witch] in this world. Wiskeria, though, was her daughter of twenty some years. She was the failure who did not encapsulate Belavierr’s dark myth, for better or for worse. She was the ordinary witch, the [General] of Riverfarm, so not that ordinary—
All in all, Belavierr’s mere gaze seemed like a suitable representation of the Witch of Webs, the greatest living [Witch] in this world. Wiskeria, though, was her daughter of twenty some years. She was the failure who did not encapsulate Belavierr’s dark myth, for better or for worse. She was the ordinary witch, the [General] of Riverfarm, so not that ordinary—
All in all, Belavierr’s mere gaze seemed like a suitable representation of the Witch of Webs, the greatest living [Witch] in this world. Wiskeria, though, was her daughter of twenty some years. She was the failure who did not encapsulate Belavierr’s dark myth, for better or for worse. She was the ordinary witch, the [General] of Riverfarm, so not that ordinary—
All in all, Belavierr’s mere gaze seemed like a suitable representation of the Witch of Webs, the greatest living [Witch] in this world. Wiskeria, though, was her daughter of twenty some years. She was the failure who did not encapsulate Belavierr’s dark myth, for better or for worse. She was the ordinary witch, the [General] of Riverfarm, so not that ordinary—
All in all, Belavierr’s mere gaze seemed like a suitable representation of the Witch of Webs, the greatest living [Witch] in this world. Wiskeria, though, was her daughter of twenty some years. She was the failure who did not encapsulate Belavierr’s dark myth, for better or for worse. She was the ordinary witch, the [General] of Riverfarm, so not that ordinary—
But she was Belavierr’s daughter, and the product of her mother raising her was everywhere about her if you looked. A [Witch] pretending to be normal without ever recognizing it. But she did try, and of all the [Witches] that Erin had met so far, she alone did not prod or poke Erin to become something.
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