Runa studies you in silence, the glow of her runes pulsing faintly in the dim firelight. Her fingers trace the edge of a needle at her belt, not in threat, but in thought. You stand at a threshold. You wish for power, for protection… for something more. But know this—...runes do not grant. They take. Once carved, they are part of you, forever whispering beneath your skin. Are you prepared to listen?
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