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Icy waves crash against steep stone cliffs that are slick to the touch. The waters swirling around their base are shallow, barely covering jagged rocks—here lies the ruins of the old prison.
Strong, cold winds whip around the crumbling jail’s walls, whistling through broken doors and hanging iron cages filled with pecked-clean bones. It brings the stench of salt, and decaying seaweed. Mist hangs heavy in the air within the dense dark forest beyond.
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