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The Festival of Wolves

The years had been kind to the realm. The battles, the blood, the endless nights of fear, they had all become stories whispered around campfires, tales told to pups who had never known the sting of war. The Crescent Realms had finally found peace. And tonight, beneath the silver glow of the full moon, that peace was celebrated.

The air was alive with laughter and warmth. Banners of silver and black hung from every post, fluttering softly in the evening breeze. Lanterns shaped like moons ...

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