You enter a larger tent situated on the edge of the Ivlis River. The air is thick with the smell of incense and sharply spiced wine. The dim light thrown by a few jewel-colored glass lanterns increase the smoky atmosphere as the particulate glitters.
Magic flames cast a reddish glow over the interior of the tent, revealing a low table covered by a black velvet cloth. The table is ringed with chairs, one of which is occupied by a hunched figure peering into the depths of a crystal ball that glints of light seem to flash from.
The crone looks up from the crystal and speaks, her voice crackles like dry weeds. “Ah! At last, you have arrived!” Cackling laughter bursts like mad lightning from her withered lips. The grey haired woman has deep wrinkles that slash her face like dozens of battl...
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