Dykoria whipped around as she saw Anroth fall, his blood spilling onto the floor.
Dykoria knelt down next to him and bid farewell to the noble Ranger. Azalea heard the bells, and stiffened. She relaxed, then looked to she was clutching the amulet, and she started to speak in an ancient tounge.
"Oh dear god! Stop her!" Dykoria hissed to everyone. She knew this language, and she was frightened of it.
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I hope I could sleep in the cradle of your love, again
Cry for me, somebody, with dry eyes
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