VALOR IN OUR BLOOD PT. 1
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THE TREEHOUSE PLANNING
It was right after Artyom’s fourteenth birthday when things started to shift. War had come to Emberstone, and the days of carefree exploration in Mistwood were beginning to feel like they belonged to a different time. We were still young—barely fourteen—but we couldn’t help noticing the changes around us. Our training was more than just a routine now; it felt like we were preparing for something real. The treehouse, where we used to plan our next big adventure or tell stories, was becoming more of a place where we talked about things that actually mattered. But even with everything going on, there was still a part of me that felt like we were on the edge of something important, something we could handle together.
The cool night air hit my face as I stood at the entrance of our treehouse, looking out over the fields and hills around Mistwood. The tall grass moved with the wind, shimmering like silver under the moonlight. Everything looked calm at first glance, but the sounds of battle weren’t far off—the clash of steel and the distant shouts cut through the night, reminding me that things were anything but peaceful.
Behind me, the lamps inside the treehouse cast a warm glow over the table where my cousins were gathered. Euros had a map spread out, his eyes darting over it as he planned. Sirisi was tracing the edges of the map, lost in thought, while Artyom stood by the door, one hand on the hilt of Sentinel, looking ready for whatever came next.
I turned away from the night and joined them at the table. The treehouse wasn’t just a hideout—it was our base. We’d turned it from a simple cottage into something more, nestled high in a maple tree with a clear view of Mistwood and the fields around it. It was a place where we could plan and get ready for what was coming.
"We can't wait any longer," I said, breaking the silence. My voice had a note of urgency—this wasn’t the time to be subtle. "Mistwood’s under siege, and our parents are out there fighting. They need help, and fast. We have to go get it."
Euros nodded, his gaze still on the map. "We can’t just sit here and do nothing," he agreed. "We need reinforcements, and the fastest way to get them is to go straight to King Ferrin in Oakenbrid City. The dwarves have always been our allies—they’ll come if we ask."
"And after that?" Sirisi asked, glancing up from the map. "Even if the dwarves join the fight, will it be enough?"
"It might not be," Artyom said, his voice steady but concerned. "We need to cover all our bases. If the dwarves aren’t enough, we should head to Nuvinland. The gnomes have airships, engineers, and all sorts of gadgets that could give us an edge. King Finn’s always been a friend to Mistwood."
I nodded, feeling the plan take shape in my mind. "So it’s settled. We fly to Oakenbrid City first, get King Ferrin and the dwarves on board, then head to Kupits in Nuvinland and ask King Finn for help. Once we’ve secured their support, we’ll fly back to Mistwood as fast as we can. Our parents need reinforcements, and we’ll bring them."
Sirisi hesitated, her worry evident. "I know we need to go, but... what if something happens while we’re gone?" she asked, her voice low. "Leaving them behind... it feels wrong."
"They can handle themselves," I replied, meeting her gaze. "They’re strong, but they need us to do our part. We’ve gotta get reinforcements."
Artyom, still by the door, spoke up. "We can do this. We’ve prepared, and we’re ready. Let’s make sure we don’t let them down."
We all fell silent, thinking about what we were about to do. I felt the weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders, but it didn’t scare me—it made me more determined. This was on us now.
After a few minutes, we checked our gear one last time. Outside, our mounts were resting, ready to go at a moment’s notice. They knew something was up—they always did.
I took one last look around the treehouse. This was home, our safe place, but now we were leaving it behind. No time to dwell on that. We had a job to do.
"Let's go," I said, leading the way down. We mounted our birds and, with a final glance back, took to the skies. The cold night air rushed past us as we left the treehouse behind, heading north towards Oakenbrid City.
DEPARTURE FROM MISTWOOD
The night was on our side as we flew through the skies, the cold air rushing past us. Below, Mistwood stretched out in all directions, the fields and hills a dark blur beneath us. The sounds of battle that we heard from the treehouse were now even clearer, echoing up from the ground with every clash of steel and shout of command. The fight wasn’t far off—it was right there, just below us, and our parents were in the middle of it.
As we flew north, the glow of magical flames and the clash of steel drew my attention. The battle wasn’t just close—it was raging right below us. I guided Blaze lower, signaling the others to follow. As we descended, the scene below came into sharp focus. Dad, riding Korlis, was leading a charge straight into the thick of the Felderian forces. He moved with strength and purpose, commanding the battlefield with every strike. Uncle Cydroc, his wings a blur as he dived at the enemy, unleashed blasts of shadowy magic that twisted through the air, sowing confusion and fear among their ranks. Aunt Malice wielded her own powerful sorcery, and Aunt Siri's psionic energy crackled in the air, disrupting the minds of their foes. Together, they were a formidable force, their powers lighting up the night.
My heart pounded as I watched them. Seeing our parents fighting filled me with pride, but also a renewed sense of urgency. They were giving everything to protect us, to protect Mistwood, and that meant we had to do our part too. We had to get them the help they needed.
The weight of responsibility pressed even heavier on me. "We’ve got to go," I said, my voice firm. "They need us to bring back reinforcements. We can’t let them down."
Blaze responded to my determination, his powerful wings slicing through the air as we climbed higher again. The others followed, and soon we were soaring above the treetops, leaving the battle below. But the sight of our parents fighting stayed with me, pushing me to fly faster, to reach Oakenbrid City as quickly as possible.
The journey ahead stretched out before us, the night sky wide and endless. The sounds of battle faded behind us, replaced by the steady beat of our mounts' wings and the rushing wind. We flew on in silence, each of us focused on the mission ahead.
THE ENCOUNTER WITH THE SUPPLY SCAVENGERS
The flight had been smooth, the night wrapping around us like a protective cloak. We had been in the air for nearly half an hour, covering significant ground when something below caught my eye—a flicker of light, the glow of lanterns and small fires. I signaled the others, and we descended silently, our mounts gliding downwards with practiced ease.
Below us, a Felderian supply scavenger group had set up a makeshift camp. The soldiers were mostly resting around the campfires, some cleaning their weapons while others quietly conversed or kept watch. They appeared relaxed, perhaps confident that they were far from any immediate danger. But we knew better—these were the same soldiers tasked with sustaining the siege, and the supplies they guarded were stolen from our people, from Emberstone.
My jaw tightened as I took in the scene. The realization hit hard—these supplies weren’t just any resources; they were stolen from our home. The anger that had been simmering within me flared up. I couldn’t let them get away with this.
"They’re resting now, but they’ll be ready to attack again by morning," I whispered, more to myself than anyone else. But I knew the others heard me. "We can’t let them get away with this. We have to stop them."
Artyom nodded, his eyes narrowing as he gripped Sentinel tightly. "Let’s make sure they never try this again."
Without hesitation, I guided Blaze into a silent dive. The wind whistled past as we descended rapidly, the ground rushing up to meet us. Blaze struck first, his talons slashing through the air with deadly precision. The leader didn’t stand a chance, his body crumpling under Blaze’s attack.
“What the—?!” one of the soldiers shouted, jolting upright from his position near the fire, his eyes widening in terror as he scrambled to draw his sword.
“Wrong move, friend!” Euros called out, a smirk on his face as he directed Nimbus to swoop down. “Scatter them, now!”
Nimbus dove, knocking a soldier off his feet with a powerful wingbeat. The man tried to raise his sword, but Euros was faster, his brass knuckles, Bonk, sparking with energy as he landed a solid punch to the soldier’s jaw. “You’re not going anywhere!” Euros hissed as the soldier crumpled to the ground.
Another soldier, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, lunged at Sirisi with a roar. “I’ll cut you down, little girl!”
Sirisi’s eyes narrowed as she extended her hand, and with a flick of her wrist, Spectra flew from its place on her back into her grasp. The staff’s psionic runes flared to life, glowing with a soft crimson hue. The soldier’s sword clanged against the reinforced metal of Spectra, sending a shockwave up his arm.
The soldier staggered back, eyes wide with shock. “No—!” he screamed, his voice breaking as panic overtook him. The glowing runes on Spectra only seemed to heighten his fear, and he took another step back, his composure completely shattered.
“You don’t stand a chance,” Sirisi said calmly, her voice steady. With a mental command, she directed Spectra to twist in her grip, the staff moving with precision as if it had a life of its own. The psionic energy within it surged, and with another thought, Sirisi unleashed a focused blast of psionic energy, hitting the soldier square in the chest. The impact sent him stumbling backward, gasping for breath.
Before he could recover, Sirisi followed up with a precise blow to his temple, delivered with the other end of the staff. The soldier’s eyes rolled back as he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Aurelia, moving with predatory grace, leaped at another soldier who tried to flank Sirisi. Her claws raked across his armor, sending him crashing to the ground. “Thanks, Aurelia,” Sirisi said, giving her osprey a quick nod before turning to face the next threat.
On the other side of the camp, Artyom and Titan were a whirlwind of motion. “Come on, you cowards!” Artyom shouted as he swung Sentinel with all his might, smashing a shield out of a soldier’s hands. The man staggered back, fear evident in his eyes.
“Get him!” another Felderian yelled, trying to rally his comrades. But Titan was already on him, his powerful talons tearing into the man’s armor and sending him flying into a stack of crates. The remaining soldiers hesitated, glancing between Artyom’s towering figure and the relentless assault of his eagle. Their resolve wavered.
“Run if you want to live!” one of the soldiers cried, dropping his weapon and bolting toward the woods.
“You’re not getting away that easily!” Artyom growled, launching Sentinel at the fleeing soldier. The weapon struck true, tripping the man and sending him sprawling to the ground.
On the other side of the camp, Euros was dealing with a soldier who had managed to dodge Nimbus’s initial attack. The soldier snarled as he swung his sword at Euros. “You think you’re clever, kid? Let’s see how clever you are with a blade in your gut!”
Euros sidestepped the attack effortlessly, a smirk playing on his lips. “You Felderians really need better lines,” he quipped, ducking under another wild swing. With a swift motion, he jabbed his knuckles into the soldier’s side, sending a jolt of energy through the man’s body. The soldier collapsed, groaning in pain.
“Euros, behind you!” Sirisi shouted as she noticed another soldier charging at him from behind, sword raised.
Euros barely had time to react before the soldier was on him. But before the blade could strike, Nimbus swooped in, grabbing the soldier by the shoulders and lifting him off the ground. Euros grinned and called out, "Always got my back, huh?"
Nimbus cawed triumphantly as he dropped the struggling soldier into a nearby bush.
Blaze continued to circle overhead, swooping down whenever a Felderian tried to regroup. His talons gleamed in the moonlight as he targeted any who dared raise their weapons. “Stay down!” I called out as one particularly stubborn soldier tried to crawl away. Blaze landed beside him, his beak snapping dangerously close to the man’s ear. “Or you won’t get up again.”
The fight, though intense, was over almost as quickly as it began. The last of the scavengers fell, their attempts to regroup and counterattack crushed by our relentless assault. We stood among the fallen soldiers, breathing heavily but unharmed. The night was silent once more, the only sounds the distant crackle of the scavengers' dying fires.
I looked around at the others, feeling a surge of pride. Sirisi caught my eye and nodded, her expression mirroring my own relief. Euros checked Nimbus, ensuring his mount was unscathed, while Artyom stood tall beside Titan, his usually calm face showing a hint of satisfaction. We had done it—we had stopped them.
GATHERING SUPPLIES AND THE HARD DECISION
As I continued to search through the camp, something shiny caught my eye near one of the fallen soldiers—the one Blaze had taken down at the start of the fight. I crouched down and brushed aside some dirt, revealing a small, engraved silver coin—clearly Felderian currency. I picked it up, turning it over in my fingers, the cool metal glinting faintly in the moonlight. It felt strange, holding something so ordinary from the enemy camp, yet it would serve as a reminder of the battle we’d fought and the choices we’d made.
As I examined the coin, my gaze fell on the soldier’s uniform—it was more ornate than the others, with subtle embellishments marking him as someone of higher rank. Curious, I searched his belongings more thoroughly and found a small leather-bound book tucked into his coat. My heart raced as I thumbed through the pages, quickly realizing it was more than just a soldier’s journal. Inside were maps, notes, and what looked like strategic plans. This was no ordinary trooper—this was their leader, and the intel he carried could be critical to the outcome of our parents’ battle.
I looked around to make sure the others were still busy, then signaled to Euros, who was examining a small dagger nearby. "Euros, come take a look at this," I whispered, holding up the book.
Euros’ eyes narrowed in curiosity as he approached. I handed him the leather-bound book, and he quickly began flipping through the pages. His expression shifted from interest to intense focus as he studied the contents. "This isn’t just any old journal," Euros murmured, more to himself than to me. "These are battle plans, detailed maps... this could change everything."
I nodded, feeling the weight of the discovery settle in. "I thought so too. We need to get this to our parents as soon as we can."
"Absolutely," Euros agreed, his mind clearly already working through the implications. He carefully closed the book and slipped it into his own pack. "We can’t let this fall back into enemy hands. This is exactly the kind of edge we need."
Relieved to have Euros’ confirmation, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. Nearby, Sirisi had found a small, intricately carved wooden figure buried beneath a pile of blankets. It was a simple carving of a bird, perhaps an eagle or a hawk, its wings spread wide as if in flight. She turned it over in her hands, a soft smile touching her lips as she appreciated the craftsmanship. “This was made by someone with skill,” she said quietly, slipping the figure into her pack. “A reminder that even our enemies have lives and stories of their own.”
Artyom, ever practical, picked up a sturdy, well-made flask that had been abandoned near one of the fallen soldiers. He examined it closely, noting the fine craftsmanship, before deciding it would be useful on our journey. He filled it with water from one of the skins we’d gathered and attached it to his belt. “Might as well put it to good use,” he said with a shrug, though his eyes held a deeper contemplation of what it represented.
With our small mementos and the critical intel packed away, we turned our attention back to the task at hand. Sirisi hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and stepped forward. “We do what we have to,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the weight of the decision.
I reached into my pack and pulled out my lighter—a brass trench lighter with a sturdy design, complete with a spare fuel container, just in case. I glanced at Sirisi, and she gave me a small nod of approval. With a flick of my thumb, the lighter sparked to life, the flame steady even against the cool night breeze. I leaned down and touched the flame to the pile of supplies.
The fire caught quickly, the dry rations and discarded uniforms igniting with a sudden burst of heat. I watched as the flames grew, the heat warming my face even as the sight of it tightened something in my chest. These supplies represented our people’s hard work, their survival through difficult times. But now, in the hands of the enemy, they were a threat to everything we were fighting for.
As the flames rose higher, I turned away, unable to watch any longer. “We need to go,” I said, my voice carrying a note of finality. “We’ve done what we had to. Now we need to make sure this wasn’t for nothing.”
Artyom and Euros nodded, both understanding the gravity of our actions. Sirisi lingered for a moment, her eyes reflecting the flames before she finally turned away, joining the rest of us.
We mounted our birds, the firelight flickering behind us as we prepared to leave. As we rose into the sky, the burning supplies dwindled into the distance, becoming just another glow on the horizon.
The journey ahead was long, and the weight of what we had just done pressed heavily on my shoulders. But as we flew through the night, I knew we had made the right choice. We couldn’t let our enemies gain any more ground, and sometimes that meant making the hardest decisions of all.
With the supplies burning behind us, we pushed onward, our resolve steeled for whatever lay ahead.
THE JOURNEY TO OAKENBRID CITY
The night stretched on as we flew, the stars overhead guiding us like silent sentinels. The cool spring air brushed against our faces, keeping us alert as we pushed forward, driven by the urgency of our mission. Although the battle had taken some energy out of us, the flight itself wasn’t overly taxing, and the brief rest we had taken before setting off again helped us regain our focus.
After two and a half more hours of flying, the outline of Oakenbrid City finally came into view. The city, nestled against the mountains, was fortified and well-defended, with its stone structures reflecting the sturdy craftsmanship of the dwarves who lived there. The banners of the Oakenbrid Kingdom fluttered faintly in the early morning breeze, a sign of the strength we sought to bring back to Mistwood.
We descended into the city, landing our mounts just outside the main gates. The guards, recognizing us, quickly ushered us inside and through the grand corridors of Castle Oakenbrid. The castle’s stone walls echoed with the sound of our footsteps as we made our way to the main hall.
As we entered the hall, we were greeted not just by King Ferrin, who had been roused from his slumber, but also by his older brother, Magnus Oakenbrid. Both dwarves were dressed in their nightclothes—simple robes hastily thrown over their pajamas. Despite their casual attire, Magnus still carried an air of formidable strength, even without his usual battle gear.
King Ferrin, his presence commanding despite the early hour, listened intently as I explained the situation in Mistwood, detailing the siege and the desperate need for reinforcements.
"You’ve done well to come here," King Ferrin said, his voice measured and calm. "The journey ahead is just as important as what you’ve already faced. Take some time to rest and gather your strength. At dawn, you’ll continue on, and Oakenbrid will stand with you."
Before I could respond, Magnus stepped forward, his stout frame exuding energy despite the early hour. "Aye, Ferrin, but ye know I can’t be sittin' on me butt while our friends in Mistwood are fightin' fer their lives," Magnus said, his voice a deep rumble. "I’ll be takin’ a squad of Oakenbrid Shield Dwarves and headin’ to Mistwood right away. The situation’s grim, and I’d be a fool to wait."
King Ferrin considered this for a moment, his gaze shifting between Magnus and the rest of us. Finally, he nodded. "Very well, Magnus. Take your squad and go. Mistwood will be stronger with you there."
Magnus grinned, his teeth flashing in the dim light. "Don’t ye worry, lads and lass," he said, turning to us with a reassuring wink. "We’ll be givin' those Felderian dogs a right proper thrashin’. Ye just make sure ye bring back those reinforcements from Nuvinland."
I wanted to argue, to insist that we continue immediately, but the presence of Magnus and his Shields brought me a sense of reassurance. We needed to be at our best when we reached Nuvinland, and knowing that Magnus was already on his way to Mistwood eased some of the burden on our shoulders. Reluctantly, I nodded, and we were shown to quarters where we could rest for a few hours before continuing our mission.
As we were led away, I couldn’t help but glance back at Magnus. Even in his pajamas, he exuded the confidence of a seasoned warrior. His determined expression reminded me that we weren’t in this fight alone. The Oakenbrid Shield Dwarves were a force to be reckoned with, and with Magnus leading them, Mistwood would stand strong
THE FLIGHT TO KUPITS, NUVINLAND
At first light, we were back in the air, the brief rest in Oakenbrid giving us the strength we needed for the next leg of our journey. The flight to Kupits in Nuvinland would take us across the Sea of Turquoise Waves, a vast stretch of ocean that seemed endless from our vantage point in the sky. The early morning sun cast long shadows over the water, and the steady rhythm of our mounts' wings was a comforting presence as we flew.
As we soared above the shimmering sea, something below caught my eye—ships, Felderian warships, cutting through the water in formation. My heart skipped a beat as I realized the danger they posed. "Look," I called out, pointing downward. "Felderian ships."
Euros quickly assessed the situation, his eyes narrowing. "There’s a whole fleet down there. We need to stay high; it’ll make us harder to hit if they spot us."
"Let’s gain some altitude," Sirisi suggested, her voice steady but tinged with concern. "We need to stay out of their range."
Artyom nodded, already guiding his mount higher. "We’ll be safer up here, but we have to move fast. If they see us, they’ll try to bring us down."
As we ascended, the water around the ships began to churn violently. Something massive was moving beneath the surface, disturbing the waves. My breath caught in my throat. "What’s happening down there?"
Before anyone could answer, the massive form of Garyodos, the ancient sea dragon, burst from the depths. His long, flowing body moved gracefully through the water, his enormous snail shell gleaming under the sunlight like an ominous beacon. His sudden appearance drew gasps from all of us.
"Gary! It’s Gary!" Artyom exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement and relief. "We’re not alone!"
With a powerful sweep of his tail, Garyodos slammed into the first warship, splintering its hull with a force that sent debris flying into the air. The Felderian crew barely had time to react before he unleashed a torrent of water from his massive maw, capsizing another ship in a single, devastating blow. The remaining vessels attempted to flee, but Gary was relentless; he coiled around one, crushing it with a vice-like grip before hurling it into the others, creating a chaotic tangle of sinking wreckage.
"He’s tearing them apart," Sirisi whispered, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and respect. "It’s like they’re nothing to him."
"Even the sea fights against them," Artyom said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I doubt the Felderians expected this."
We watched as the warships, no match for the ancient sea dragon, were decimated, their remains swallowed by the ocean depths. Garyodos unleashed a final, thunderous roar that echoed across the waves before diving back into the ocean. The sea calmed as he disappeared, leaving nothing but scattered wreckage in his wake.
I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. "We’re lucky Gary’s on our side. Let’s use this chance to get to Kupits as quickly as we can."
We exchanged determined glances before continuing our journey, the sight of Garyodos still fresh in our minds. The Felderians were facing enemies far greater than they had ever anticipated, and with allies like Gary, our mission felt more achievable than ever.
MEETING KING FINN IN KUPITS, NUVINLAND
We arrived in Kupits, the capital of Nuvinland, just as the sun reached its highest point in the sky. The city was bustling with midday activity, the streets alive with the energy of gnomes going about their daily routines. The architecture was distinctly gnomish, with intricate designs and airships dotting the skies, their shadows casting interesting patterns on the cobblestone streets below. The technological innovations on display were impressive—everywhere we looked, there were signs of gnomish ingenuity, from steam-powered vehicles to hovering platforms.
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We were quickly brought before King Finn, a gnome known for his wisdom and leadership. His chambers were filled with strange devices and inventions, each more curious than the last. Gears clicked and whirred, lights flickered, and faint puffs of steam rose from various contraptions scattered about the room. The midday sun streamed in through large windows, casting bright beams of light that reflected off the metal and glass surfaces. But despite the odd surroundings, King Finn himself was serious and focused as he listened to our plea for help.
I explained the siege on Mistwood, detailing the situation and emphasizing the urgency of our need. "Mistwood is under attack, and we’re struggling to hold back the Felderian forces. We need help—anything you can send that might turn the tide in our favor. We’ve come to ask for your support."
King Finn’s eyes twinkled as he nodded. "Ah, Mistwood, land of trees! Robin’s home, across the seas!"
"Yes, Your Majesty," I replied. "He’s been like a grandfather to us. He’s done everything he can, but we’re in real trouble now."
The gnome king nodded thoughtfully. "Robin’s friend, I’ve long been! Glad to help, through thick and thin!" He smiled warmly at us. "Far you’ve come, well you’ve fought! Help you need, that you’ve sought!"
Euros stepped forward, his voice steady. "We wouldn’t have come if it weren’t urgent. We know what we’re asking is a lot, but we’re out of options."
King Finn’s expression softened, his kindness showing through his wise eyes. "No burden too great when friends are in need. But listen well, and heed my creed."
Sirisi, sensing the importance of his words, leaned in closer. "We’re listening, Your Majesty."
"Rest you must, or surely fall. Airship ride, best of all!" King Finn gestured toward the sleek airships hovering nearby, visible through the large windows of his chambers. "Fly not now, across the sea. On airship glide, safe you’ll be! Rest and eat, and you’ll be ready. When we land, you’ll be steady!"
Artyom, always eager to help, asked, "And our mounts, Your Majesty? Can they rest too?"
King Finn nodded, a twinkle in his eye. "Aye, your birds too, they’ll find rest. Our airships’ nests are built the best!"
I nodded in agreement, understanding the wisdom in his words. The gnomish airships would allow us and our mounts to rest, ensuring we’d be ready for the battle that awaited us back in Mistwood. We had been pushing ourselves hard, and the prospect of a brief rest—coupled with the efficiency of gnomish engineering—was too practical to ignore.
We boarded the airships, our mounts secured in specially designed nests that were built with gnomish precision. As the airship’s engines hummed to life, I found a seat and leaned back, letting the tension of the journey start to ease. The thought of flying back to Mistwood with reinforcements on the way filled me with a renewed sense of hope.
THE RETURN TO MISTWOOD: ONBOARD THE AIRSHIP
The airship ride was smooth, the gnomish technology making the journey across the Sea of Turquoise Waves feel effortless. As we glided over the vast ocean, I couldn’t shake the mix of anticipation and anxiety that gnawed at me. We were heading back to Mistwood, but this time we wouldn’t be arriving alone. The thought of returning with reinforcements was reassuring, but the uncertainty of what awaited us still weighed heavily on my mind.
Our birds rested in makeshift nests that the gnomish crew had quickly put together—simple yet perfectly adequate for the journey. We took the opportunity to rest as well, grateful for the brief respite. The gnomes provided us with food and comfortable quarters, and as we ate and relaxed, I could feel the fatigue of the journey beginning to fade, replaced by a renewed sense of determination.
As we settled into our quarters, Artyom pulled out his sketchbook, his eyes sparkling with inspiration. "These airships are incredible," he said, his voice full of awe. "I’ve never seen anything like them."
Euros leaned over to get a better look at Artyom’s sketch. "It’s like something out of a dream," he agreed. "The way they hover, the gears and steam, it’s all so… complex. I wonder how long it took them to build these."
Artyom nodded, his pencil moving quickly across the page. "I’m going to draw one of the airships, and King Finn at the helm. He’s such a unique character, and these ships… they’re a work of art in themselves."
Sirisi, sitting nearby, smiled as she watched Artyom sketch, but there was a trace of concern in her expression. "It’s amazing how the gnomes can take something so mechanical and make it beautiful. They’re like artists, but with metal and gears instead of paint and canvas."
I looked out the window at the vast expanse of ocean beneath us, the airship’s propellers humming steadily. "There’s so much to learn from them," I mused. "They combine art and engineering in a way that’s… well, magical in its own right."
As Artyom continued sketching, the atmosphere in the cabin was peaceful, filled with a sense of wonder at the gnomish creations that carried us safely through the sky. The sight of the airships, with their intricate designs and mechanical precision, was a stark contrast to the tension we’d felt earlier, and it allowed us a moment of calm before the storm we knew was coming.
But as we neared the coastline of Emberstone, that sense of calm was abruptly shattered. Sirisi, who had been quiet and contemplative, suddenly tensed beside me. Her usually calm expression was marred by worry, and I knew immediately that something was wrong.
"Something’s not right," she said, her voice tight with anxiety. "We need to be on our birds. They can get us there faster."
I didn’t hesitate. The urgency in her voice was enough to spur us into action. I quickly made my way to the command deck where King Finn was overseeing the journey.
"Your Majesty, we need to leave now," I said firmly, though with respect. "Something’s wrong, and we need to be on the ground as soon as possible."
King Finn studied my expression for a moment, then nodded in understanding. "We’ll follow close, swift and strong. Be ready now; it won’t be long!"
"Thank you," I replied, appreciating his quick response.
As soon as the airship crossed over land, I turned to the others. "It's time to mount up and go," I said, my voice carrying the weight of our mission.
We wasted no time mounting our birds. The urgency in Sirisi’s voice still echoed in my mind as we took to the skies. The cool air rushed past us as we pushed our birds to their limits, the landscape of Emberstone speeding by beneath us. The thought of what we might find in Mistwood drove us onward, our hearts pounding in unison with the beating wings of our birds.
The closer we got, the more intense the feeling of urgency became. Whatever Sirisi had sensed, it was clear that time was of the essence. We had to reach Mistwood, and we had to reach it fast.
ARRIVING IN MISTWOOD - THE BATTLE
We arrived in Mistwood just as the battle was reaching its peak. The sight of our home under siege filled me with a mix of anger and determination. The Felderians were pressing hard, but our parents and the allied forces were holding the line with all their might.
As we approached, I could see Magnus Oakenbrid leading a formidable group of Shield Dwarves, their heavy armor gleaming in the sunlight as they pushed back against the Felderian forces. Magnus’s massive shield and shotgun made him a force to be reckoned with, as he barreled through enemy lines, blasting through armor with deafening shots. The Shield Dwarves moved in tight formation around him, their shields locking together to form an impenetrable wall of steel. Behind this wall, the dwarves advanced steadily, their heavy dwarven revolvers at the ready. The dwarves fired their revolvers with deadly precision, the booming shots echoing across the battlefield, cutting down Felderian soldiers with each volley.
Magnus barked orders, his voice gruff and commanding. "Forward, ye lot! Let’s show these Felderian dogs what Oakenbrid Mithril can do! No mercy, lads—crush ‘em good!" With a deafening roar, the dwarves surged forward, their shields slamming into the Felderians and sending them sprawling. Magnus fired his shotgun at point-blank range, the blast knocking several enemies off their feet.
The battlefield was a chaotic mix of clashing forces, but my eyes were immediately drawn to the powerful figures of our parents at the center of the fray. Dad, riding Korlis, was a sight to behold. Korlis was no ordinary mount—he was a black griffon, a majestic and terrifying creature with the body of a sleek panther and the head and wings of a raven. His feathers were as dark as midnight, absorbing the light around him, and his piercing red eyes seemed to glow with an unnatural intensity. His beak was sharp and curved, capable of tearing through armor, and his talons, gleaming like polished obsidian, shredded through Felderian soldiers with ease. Korlis was as intelligent as he was fierce, moving with a lethal grace that made him a true force of nature on the battlefield.
As Korlis swooped down, Dad expertly wielded his Nightwing Revolver, a custom weapon designed by Uncle Cydroc. The revolver roared as it fired, each shot precise and devastating, taking down officers and sowing chaos among the enemy ranks. Together, they were an unstoppable duo, a living nightmare for the Felderian forces.
Even in the midst of battle, I could see how our parents coordinated their attacks. Dad, Uncle Cydroc, Aunt Malice, and Aunt Siri moved with practiced precision, their abilities complementing one another in a deadly dance.
"Malice, now!" Dad called out, and Aunt Malice unleashed her pink lightning, striking a group of enemies that had been isolated by Dad’s revolver shots. The lightning chained from one soldier to the next, dropping them where they stood.
Uncle Cydroc, seeing an opening, raised his hands and sent tendrils of shadow snaking through the air, wrapping around another group of soldiers, binding them in place. "Siri, now’s your chance!" he called out, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Aunt Siri, her eyes glowing with psionic energy, focused her mind and unleashed a powerful mental wave. The soldiers, already restrained by the shadows, suddenly clutched their heads, their minds overwhelmed by the psychic assault. "They’re losing their grip!" Aunt Siri called out, her voice steady and controlled even amidst the chaos. The trapped soldiers, unable to fight back, began to break ranks, their fear and confusion spreading through the Felderian lines like wildfire.
Together, they were an unstoppable force, each attack coordinated to maximize its impact. The Felderian soldiers stood no chance against their combined might.
But we weren’t just here to watch. "Let’s give ‘em everything we’ve got!" I shouted to the others, feeling the surge of adrenaline as Blaze plunged into the thick of the battle.
Blaze’s wings cut through the air with lethal precision as I pulled out Dad’s old crossbow pistol. I aimed at a Felderian soldier who was charging toward the dwarven line and fired a sleep dart. The dart struck true, and the soldier crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he even knew what hit him.
Turning my attention to the officer leading the group, I felt the power of the House De’Endar Dagger at my side. "If brains were gold, our officers could fill a mint—Felderian officers like you would be drowning in debt!" I shouted, the cutting words laced with Savage Mockery.
The officer staggered, clutching his head as the words burrowed into his mind, the psychic damage almost bringing him to his knees. His retinue, caught in the aftershock of the mockery, suddenly erupted into uncontrollable laughter, their weapons dropping as they doubled over, helpless against the mental assault.
Euros, with a determined look, leaped off Nimbus, landing lightly on the ground. "Cover me!" he called out as he unleashed a powerful Shadow Bolt, sending it crashing into a group of advancing Felderians. The dark energy surged through them, disorienting and weakening them.
Not wasting any time, Euros followed up with Shadow Step, teleporting through the shadows to a more advantageous position. He channeled his magic through his brass knuckles, Bonk, and delivered a series of elemental strikes—lightning crackling, ice freezing, and fire burning—each punch sending enemies flying back. "They can’t stand against this!" Euros shouted, the thrill of the fight clear in his voice.
Aurelia, guided by Sirisi’s mental commands, swooped down with swift precision, her sharp beak and talons cutting through armor with ease. Sirisi's eyes glowed with intense psionic energy as she focused her power. "Let’s show them what we can do, Aurelia!" she called out.
As the disoriented soldiers scrambled to regroup, Sirisi unleashed a powerful Psionic Energy Blast. The invisible wave of mental force slammed into the soldiers, sending them staggering as the energy overwhelmed their minds. With a quick follow-up, Sirisi directed Aurelia to dive toward a group of Felderian archers, scattering them and preventing their attack. Together, they disrupted the enemy's ranks, leaving them unable to regroup.
Meanwhile, Artyom and Titan charged into the fray, Artyom leaping off Titan’s back to land in the midst of a cluster of Felderians. With Sentinel in hand, he swung with all his might, unleashing a powerful Shockwave. The moment Sentinel struck its target, an electric pulse radiated outwards from the point of impact, surging through the soldiers like a bolt of lightning. The Felderians convulsed as the shockwave hit them, their bodies jerking as the electricity coursed through them, knocking them off their feet.
"You’re not getting past us!" Artyom roared as he followed up with another devastating strike, each swing of Sentinel sending out ripples of electrical energy that cascaded through the enemy ranks. Titan, not one to be outdone, continued to clear a path with his immense strength, adding to the chaos as he flung enemies aside with powerful swipes of his talons and wings.
At that moment, the Gnomish Air Cavalry appeared on the horizon, their sleek, mechanical airships glinting in the sunlight as they hovered over the battlefield. The gnomes aboard the airships wasted no time, quickly deploying their advanced gadgets and weapons. From the airships, a barrage of strange and wondrous devices rained down upon the Felderian ranks. Explosive spheres detonated with precision, throwing soldiers into disarray, while entangling nets shot out, ensnaring groups of enemies and rendering them helpless.
"Zappers away, zap ‘em fast! Felderians fall, they won’t last!" one of the gnomish commanders shouted as several small, buzzing contraptions were released from the airships. These zappers zoomed through the air, seeking out enemy soldiers and delivering powerful electric shocks that left them writhing on the ground.
As the airships hovered just above the battlefield, ropes were swiftly lowered, and the gnomish ground forces descended with practiced ease, sliding down the ropes to join the fray. Their descent was rapid and controlled, their small but nimble forms landing lightly on the ground. Armed with compact, multi-barrelled guns, the gnomes quickly formed up and began firing into the Felderian ranks, their projectiles cutting down any soldiers who dared approach.
King Finn, watching from the command deck, directed his forces with enthusiasm. "Strike ‘em hard, and strike ‘em fast! No Felderian shall get past!"
On the ground, the gnomes moved swiftly, darting in and out of the fray, setting traps and deploying more gadgets to further disrupt the enemy. The combined might of the air and ground forces of the Gnomish Air Cavalry, along with our efforts, was overwhelming, pushing the Felderians back with relentless precision.
The tide of battle had turned, but it was far from over. Seeing the opportunity to end it, Dad urged Korlis forward, his voice strong and commanding. "Push them back! Drive them out of Emberstone!"
Uncle Cydroc took to the sky, his wings unfurling as he soared above the battlefield. "Let’s finish this!" he called out, his voice echoing across the field as he unleashed a torrent of shadow magic, striking down fleeing Felderian soldiers and sowing panic in their ranks.
"We’re with you!" I shouted as I spurred Blaze into action, signaling the others to follow. Together, we surged forward, our birds diving and striking with precision. Nimbus, Aurelia, and Titan followed Blaze’s lead, their riders directing them with skill and determination. Euros, his wings spread wide, joined Uncle Cydroc in the air, casting spells that sent bolts of energy crashing down onto the retreating Felderians.
The battlefield became a blur of motion as we chased the enemy back, the Felderians no longer fighting but fleeing in terror. The combined might of our parents, the Shield Dwarves, the Gnomish Air Cavalry, and us had broken their spirit.
As we pressed on, the Felderians began to retreat in full force, their formation crumbling as they fled toward the border. The sounds of battle turned into the sounds of a rout, with Felderian soldiers dropping their weapons and running for their lives. The momentum was ours, and we gave them no quarter as we pursued them to the very edge of Emberstone.
"Don’t let up!" Dad shouted from Korlis, his revolver firing with deadly accuracy. Uncle Cydroc swooped low, his shadow magic disrupting any attempt at regrouping, while Aunt Malice’s lightning and Aunt Siri’s psionics kept the pressure on.
The Felderian army, once so fierce, was now nothing but a panicked mass of soldiers desperate to escape. As we neared the border, Dad raised his hand, signaling us to halt. The Felderians had crossed back into their territory, their numbers decimated, and their morale shattered.
Breathing heavily, we hovered in place, watching as the last of the Felderians disappeared from sight. The battlefield behind us was littered with the remnants of the fight, but the day was ours.
"Well done, everyone," Dad said, his voice filled with pride. "Mistwood is safe."
With the Felderians gone, we turned back toward Mistwood, the battle won. Our birds flew in formation, the cool air rushing past us as we made our way home. The sense of victory was tempered by exhaustion, but also by the knowledge that we had done our part to protect our home.
As we approached Mistwood, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape. The town was quiet, the sounds of battle now just a memory. We descended slowly, landing in the clearing just outside the town, where our parents and allies were gathering.
THE AFTERMATH
When the dust finally settled and the Felderians retreated, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. We had done it—we had helped save Mistwood. But that relief faded as we returned to the compound, where our parents and the rest of the family awaited us.
As I dismounted and made my way inside, the tension was unmistakable. Mom, Auntie Katya, and Uncle Beocca were already there, their expressions a mix of relief and something else—something stern. The questions began as soon as we entered.
Dad reached me first, his face a blend of worry and frustration. "What were you thinking, Ash?" he asked, his voice sharp. "Taking your cousins and sneaking off in the middle of the night on a mission like that? Traveling all the way to Oakenbrid City and Nuvinland—and then throwing yourselves into a battle? Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"
Before I could respond, Uncle Cydroc turned to Euros, his voice unusually tense. "You could have been killed, all of you. Do you realize the risks you took, traveling so far and getting involved in such a large battle?"
Aunt Siri, her face tight with worry, pulled Sirisi into a hug. "We were fighting to protect you, to keep you safe. And you... you went out and took on a mission of your own, without telling anyone."
Katya, who had been standing quietly beside Beocca, suddenly pulled Artyom into a tight embrace, wrapping both arms around him as if shielding him from everything outside. Her tail flicked protectively around him as she nuzzled the top of his head with a gentle but firm touch, much like a mother cat reassuring her kitten. "Artyom," she purred softly, her voice a mix of love and that familiar, slightly primitive edge, "You strong, little one, but must be smart too, yes? We teach you to fight, but always use your head, hmm? Can’t just rely on muscle—think before act, like Mama says."
Then, with a warm smile, she leaned down and gave him a quick lick on the forehead. Artyom’s fur and hair stood up where she’d licked, making him look slightly tousled. The sight brought a small, affectionate smile to Katya’s face as she looked at him, her love for him clear.
Despite the scolding, I knew we had done the right thing. "With the training we’ve received—the best in all of Mistwood—we couldn’t just sit idle while you were risking everything," I explained, my voice steady but filled with remorse for the worry we’d caused. "We had to help, to do our part. We knew you were all fighting to protect Mistwood, but we couldn’t stand by. We had to get reinforcements, and the scavengers... they were stealing from our people. We couldn’t let them get away with that."
There was a brief pause as our parents processed what I had just said. Guenwhyvar, her brow furrowing in concern, asked, "Scavengers? What do you mean, Ash?"
Euros stepped forward, his expression serious but resolute. "On our way to Oakenbrid, we came across a group of Felderian scavengers," he explained. "They were stealing supplies from our people, taking everything they could get their hands on."
With a nod, I added, "I found these documents on their leader." I looked at Euros, who reached into his pack, pulling out the papers we’d recovered. "Dad," I said, as Euros handed them over to him, "These are Felderian orders—details about their supply lines, troop movements, and plans for Emberstone. We thought you’d want to see them."
Dad’s eyes widened slightly as he took the papers, quickly scanning their contents. The tension in his face eased just a fraction. "You did well finding this," he said, his gaze moving between us. "This information could be crucial."
Uncle Cydroc nodded slowly, his expression softening. "You showed bravery, all of you. But next time, think before you act. We can't protect each other if we don't know where you are or what you're planning."
There was a brief silence as the weight of his words settled in. Despite the understanding in their eyes, I knew they wished we’d made a different choice. But this was war, and we all knew the stakes were high.
I met Dad's gaze, feeling the mixture of pride and concern in his eyes. "We knew you’d stop us if we told you," I admitted, my voice steady but filled with the gravity of our decision. "But we couldn’t just sit by and do nothing. We had to act."
Sirisi, still in her mother’s embrace, looked up at Aunt Siri with understanding eyes. "We’re sorry we worried you," she said softly, her voice filled with empathy. "We knew you were all fighting to protect us, but we felt we had to do our part too. We couldn’t just stand by. We believed in what we were doing, and we’re sorry it caused you to worry, but we had to help."
Artyom, still wrapped in Katya’s protective embrace, spoke up quietly but firmly. "We did what we had to do to protect our home. And we made it back. Together."
The stern looks on our parents’ faces softened slightly. Dad, though still serious, placed a hand on my shoulder. "You’ve grown into a fine leader, Ash. But you have to understand the risks you took—not just for yourself, but for your cousins too. We’re proud of what you accomplished, but you need to think about the consequences."
Uncle Cydroc nodded in agreement. "You showed bravery, all of you. But next time... remember that we’re a team. We fight together, and we protect each other."
Aunt Siri gave a relieved smile, her pride for Sirisi clear despite her lingering worry. "You did what you believed was right, and we can’t fault you for that," Aunt Siri said softly. "Just... promise us you’ll be more careful."
Beocca, after hearing Artyom’s explanation, placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, his voice softer now. "You did well, Artyom. But understand that wisdom in battle is as important as strength. You made us proud today, but always consider the risks."
The tension in the air slowly dissipated, replaced by a quieter understanding. We had taken risks, and we had been reckless, but we had also made a difference. I could see it in the way our parents looked at us, their pride tempered by concern. This was far from over, and we had a lot to learn. But for now, we could take a moment to breathe, knowing we’d done what we had to do.
FAREWELL
The next morning, the sun peeked over the treetops, casting a warm, golden light across Mistwood. The air was still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves as a gentle breeze swept through the clearing outside the town’s gates. We stood with our parents, gathered together in the early light to say goodbye to Magnus Oakenbrid and King Finn, who had led their forces so valiantly in defense of our home.
Magnus approached us, still every bit the warrior despite the more formal clothes he wore now. His armor and big gun were packed away, but the revolver on his hip remained, a constant reminder of the battles he’d fought. He looked at each of us, his expression softening slightly. "Ye’ve all done somethin’ special here," he began, his voice carrying the weight of his respect. "Ash, Euros, Sirisi, Artyom—ye fought well and stood together even better. That’s the strength Mistwood needs. I’ll be tellin’ King Ferrin how valiantly ye fought."
King Finn, bouncing slightly on his toes with his usual energy, chimed in with a grin. "Mistwood’s strong, and so are you! We’ll keep watch from skies of blue! Call on us when troubles brew, and the gnomes of Kupits will see you through!"
Dad, standing beside me, gave a small nod to Magnus and King Finn. "You’ve both proven yourselves as allies. We fought well together, and we’ll do it again if needed. You know where to find us."
As Magnus and King Finn began to take their leave, we all moved forward to say our goodbyes. There were handshakes, hugs, and a few quiet words exchanged, each filled with mutual respect. The dwarves and gnomes were more than allies now—they were friends, and we knew we could count on them in the future.
As Magnus walked away, he started talking to the dwarves in his usual gruff tone. "Did ye see 'ow them kids' big birds was tossin’ the Felderians like ragdolls? Aye, King Ferrin’s gonna get a right good laugh outta that one!"
I turned to Dad, feeling the pride in his eyes, though he kept it subtle. As Magnus's voice faded into the distance, I looked up at Dad and said quietly, "I’m glad we could help, Dad. I know we made you proud."
Dad gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his expression softening just a little. "You did, Ash. All of you did."
With that, we all stood together for a moment, letting the morning’s warmth wash over us, knowing that, whatever challenges lay ahead, we would face them together.
REFLECTION AT THE CLUBHOUSE
The early afternoon sun bathed our clubhouse in a warm, golden light as we gathered around the central oak table. The past couple of days had been a whirlwind—flying to Oakenbrid City the night before last, rallying reinforcements, and then yesterday’s battle to defend Mistwood. Now, back in our familiar space, everything began to sink in.
I stood near the map of Mistwood hanging on the wall, my eyes tracing the familiar routes. "We really did it," I said, feeling a mix of relief and reflection. "But it wasn’t just us. Everyone played their part—our families, the dwarves, the gnomes..."
Euros, sitting at his magical workstation, nodded. "It was close, but we made the right choices. We got the reinforcements in time, and that made all the difference."
Sirisi, quietly practicing her psionics in her corner, looked up thoughtfully. "I keep thinking about the people of Mistwood. They were counting on us, and we didn’t let them down. We’ve shown them that they can trust us to protect our home."
Artyom, who had been polishing Sentinel near his art supplies, glanced at the window where the light streamed in. "We’ve been through a lot, but it feels good knowing we made a difference."
The idea resonated with everyone. We all stood up, the lingering energy from the last few days mingling with a sense of deep accomplishment. Together, we stepped outside, the warm afternoon air welcoming us as we made our way to the nests where our mounts were resting.
Blaze, Nimbus, Aurelia, and Titan were settled in their nests, their feathers ruffled but their eyes calm and alert. They had fought bravely, and now they could finally relax.
I knelt by Blaze, running my hand through his golden feathers. "You did great, Blaze," I murmured softly. The others followed suit, each spending a moment with their mounts, a quiet bond shared in those brief interactions.
As we moved to check on Korlis, Dad’s griffon, I found him perched majestically on a large branch, his red eyes still scanning the horizon, ever vigilant. Despite the battle, he remained calm, his dark feathers blending with the shadows cast by the trees.
I walked up to Korlis, resting a hand on his sleek feathers, the way I’d done countless times before. "Thanks, Korlis. You fought hard out there." The griffon turned his gaze to me, and for a moment, we understood each other perfectly—a silent acknowledgment of the battle we had both faced.
We stood together for a while, the afternoon sun bathing Mistwood in a warm glow. The sense of accomplishment was real, but so was the understanding that this was just one battle in a much larger struggle.
As we headed back inside the clubhouse, I took one last look at the sky, the sun still high but beginning its slow descent. The challenges ahead were still unknown, but as long as we stood together, I knew we could face anything.
Back inside, the comfort of the clubhouse surrounded us once more. The air was filled with the soft sounds of our activities—Euros at his workstation, carefully assembling a multi-tool designed to handle a variety of tasks with precision and durability. The tool included a sharp, fold-out blade, sturdy needle-nose pliers for delicate tasks, a small saw, a file for smoothing rough edges, a pair of scissors, a fold-out saw, a flathead screwdriver, a bottle opener, and a can opener, all integrated into a compact and efficient design.
Euros added a final touch—a small, hidden compartment that housed a matchstick-sized wand. When activated, the wand produced a steady, controlled flame, perfect for lighting fires or providing light in dark places. The flame had a faint, ethereal glow, a subtle mark of the magic imbued within it.
While practicality was the main focus, the multi-tool still bore the touch of elven elegance. Its sleek design featured subtle engravings that added a touch of artistry without compromising its functionality. This multi-tool was a gift Euros planned to deliver to King Finn, combining the best of engineering, magic, and design.
Artyom, sitting near the window where the afternoon light streamed in, had his woodcarving tools spread out before him. He was working on a relief carving in oak, carefully selecting the perfect piece of wood to ensure the grain would complement the design. The carving depicted the dwarves in battle, with Magnus Oakenbrid bravely leading them, his shotgun raised, ready to fire. Every detail was painstakingly etched into the wood—the determined expressions of the dwarves, the intricate design of their armor, and the swirling chaos of the battlefield around them.
Artyom’s hands moved with practiced precision, his claws occasionally retracting to allow for more delicate work as he carved out the fine details of Magnus’s face, capturing the grit and determination that defined the dwarf’s leadership. He even took care to replicate the texture of grip on Magnus’s signature shotgun, ensuring that every aspect of the scene was true to life.
This was more than just a carving; it was a tribute to the courage and solidarity the dwarves had shown in battle. Artyom planned to present it to Magnus as a token of appreciation and respect, a lasting symbol of the bond forged between their people in the fires of conflict. The wood itself seemed to come alive under his touch, the figures almost leaping from the oak as if ready to continue the fight.
I watched them work, a sense of pride swelling in my chest. We had come through so much, and yet here we were, already planning how to show our appreciation to those who had stood with us.
"We did it," I thought, as the peaceful sounds of our clubhouse filled the space. "But there’s more to come. And we’ll be ready."
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