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From: Day 71, Hurtling to the Uncaring

' - of course, I refused him. The Forest of Traitors could hardly be called safe, even at the best of times, and I had an appointment at a honey den.'


A rose and honey

' […] the lawless nature of the Republic stretches into dreams. I was careful to take only a little[…]. Today, devils were barred […]. I wonder if they dream at all? […] the rose from which prisoner's honey is made saw its origins in Hell.'

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