When you walk the London nights you may find yourself stepping into the places that lie beyond the thin veneer of just seeing the sights. You find a reality of magic and beings made for happiness wandering the streets of tragic. And also the opposite state, where beings made for sorrow experience only things that elate. You find love and hate. You are under and above. Sometimes you get there too early and, inevitably and surely, when you try to leave you realize it’s too late.
— Wulfric, The Book of Shattered Places
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