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Pinpricks of yellow light blinked into view. They had the appearance of frenzied candle flames, flickering in and out like fireflies. Like tiny ghosts out for an evening stroll, they curved and twisted and gyrated down the road and amassed around a freshly dug grave. There the flames grew, sprouting torsos and arms and legs, ghoulish skeletal heads.
The Candles Are Burning (Into Shadow, #6)
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