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The alchemist woke up in the middle of a windy, eerie night, when nature itself seemed to be seeking retribution for what had been happening in this distant and lonely place all these years.

Vikta closed all possible openings in the hut, but the wind still rushed through the attic and sang mournfully in the cracks and corners. There hadn't been a thunderstorm yet, but for some reason Nitsiri longed for raindrops to pound on the roof. So she would be much calmer, and the nasty feeling that someone else would come into the house with the wind would disappear.

In addition to the raging elements, another sound broke the silence.

Cap-cap…

The darkness was barely dispersed by two tallow candles. Both Vikta placed next to her, forming a small, trembling circle of light around her, the corners of the room were bathed in darkness. The face of the alchemist, swollen during the day, stood out from the darkness like the black and terrible muzzle of a troll from children's fairy tales, shadows cra
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