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“691,” Joanna whispered, “that can’t be a year… can it?”

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At the Hall of Echoes, you found a massive, spiraling staircase made of glass. Each step echoed a different era—clashing swords, distant spacecraft, children’s laughter. At the top, a vaulted chamber glowed with a single pedestal, and atop it rested a crystal orb that pulsed with the same sapphire light as the jet. “691,” Joanna whispered, “that can’t be a year…