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This page contains details about Fallen London Actions.
The child's face is marked with a wine-stain birth-mark. He extends his burden towards me.
A light, long lostIt is old, but it remembers my grip. It writhes. Its edge is jagged, the colour of a split in the sky. Its voice is thunder. […]
The child is leaving. […] Why do these things feel familiar? These are not memories worthy of me!
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