Within the Atlas Path
And last we spoke you thought I was your friend…
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Blades in the bedrock of a bleak and broken beginning.
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Butter Snakes are never a mistake to stop and take a Butter Snake watching break.
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What springs from spores becomes mold and more in minds not met with fresh air.
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Carbon carries a crooked spire upon spines bound around through crimson blades of fire.
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Mech and Wired, a wild delight with sparks and spirited sprites of electrical light.
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