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Chapter 18 Chapter-18. Whispers of vines

[Xanthea]

An icy sensation crawled up my leg.

The din of my breaths and my heartbeats faltered in my ears as the sound of rustling grass, as if a serpent hastily slithered through them. I stood barefoot on the dewy grass, aware of every stir in the surrounding underbrush.

Cold fog condensed on my sk...