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At the heart of Volchyar there stood no king, no priest.
There was only the Wolf God.
And he lived at the village’s edge in a house half-buried in snowdrift and shadow, where the forest leaned close as if listening through the walls.
Vepresk. The village of the Wild Boar God.
Mason Verger ruled there, if ruling could be called what rot does to fruit. The stories spoken in Volchyar said he was all tusk and appetite, all spoilage and laughter with blood in it.
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