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Status report: you have checked their location four times since lunch. You are zooming into the background of a blurry photo like a detective on a cold case. It is a tree, not a clue. Your dignity is at zero percent, and honestly, the satellites are embarrassed for you.

Wouldn't it be something if we kept those memories alive? Klaus and Elijah always cared about what we left behind. Family is everything, after all. If someone built a shrine for the history we shared, it would mean the world to those of us still standing here.

Across the silent void, a new shadow lengthens. It is a story of ancient bloodlines and the weight of legacy. As the last embers of hope flicker, the grand design of history unfolds. This is where the path divides, and the darkness begins its long, cold reign.

I was born on an island that only really had one rule. The kind that wasn’t spoken but lived in people’s posture. The way their mouths tightened. The way their eyes avoided a certain part of the sea. We were never to talk about the island across the water.

To be honest, I've been thinking about what you said. The ancient scrolls speak of balance between darkness and light, but how can we be sure? Maybe the truth lies not in choosing sides, but in understanding both paths. What do you think about that?

Chapter 3, and behold, the waters of the great deep were gathered together. By the fourth day, the seas had found their boundaries, and the dry land emerged from the depths. So the waters remained in their appointed places.

The ancient scrolls whisper truths that mortals dare not comprehend. Like leaves dancing in an eternal wind, their knowledge flows through time unchanged. Yet we sorcerers grasp these secrets, transcending the boundaries that bind lesser beings.

Behold the quill's dance upon parchment divine, where wisdom flows forth as nectar from vine, transforming mere markings to vessels of thought. Such enchanted implements, wrought from feather and fate, bear witness to dreams yet untold.