Labradorite, to protect me from the knowing of the elves. Dangling from my ears are tiny chandeliers, crafted by the finest glassworkers down the rivers and across the distant seas. A suitable gift for negotiating with any clever fae who might cross my path. There is always fresh blood in my veins for a rogue vampir, should such an offering be needed… The sirens I need not fear in the woods, and the roar of dragons has not been heard in the eternal mist that clouds the lands to the north for more than a thousand years. A long enough time that stories of them have been almost entirely forgotten
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