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Chapter Seventy-Six: Freedom

The monster reached out a nightmarish tendril, twisted and hard and riddled with fungus. The tendril scratched Ilyria under the chin as an overly familiar uncle might and she gagged on the smell of rotten animal flesh.

“You don’t look like him at all,” said The Shackled One, “Lucky for you. We hated him for what he did to us.”

“Us? There is more than one of you?”

“Us,” said The Shackled One, and dark spikes shot out from its body, impaling the Princess and Zlo. A spike missed the Mogul only because Loulou had pushed him out of the way. They stood open-mouthed with dread and fear as the Princess and Zlo twisted and writhed on the spikes, howling in agony, their blood dripping to the ground beneath them. Thassa ran to the frozen pair and pulled them away.

Think, Ilyria, what does it want? came Madame Skia’s question.

Ilyria tried not to hear the howls of the Princess and her son. She looked around for Madame Skia the darkness was so com

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