Soft fog rolls through the pines. Its cool and refreshing. Pulls on the my body. Creatures stir in the distance. Moonlight determined to glow through the thick clouds. I kneel down to grab a chunk of the dark moist soil. A mixture of ash from serpent, bones of squirls, and blood from foe. Hour is late. The demon Balam needs sacrafice. All hail him and he will conquer our enemys. Give me sight to out wit them.
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