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“As the brew splashed and frothed, Randolf inched closer and closer, his trembling paws clutching the next ingredient. Ithikis hummed along to the chime-like popping of the bubbles, effortlessly holding up the book in one hand, while his other twirled in the air, stirring the potion below. As much as Randolf adored Ithikis and loved the idea of potion making, his fragile heart could only take so much excitement, and it was currently reaching its limit.” – Emily Kinney, author of The Island of Lote

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