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The mouse darted through shadows, claws clicking against stone as it navigated labyrinthine tunnels with instinctive precision. Its whiskers quivered, mapping the world in echoes—every crevice a potential sanctuary, every rustle a whispered threat. Moonlight bled through cracks above, illuminating patches of fur matted with dirt and defiance. This was no ordinary rodent; its lineage traced back to the Storm-Scavengers, a clan said to chew through lightning to steal sparks for their nests. Now, the last of its kind, the mouse bore a jagged scar across one ear—a relic of the owl king’s talons—and carried a stolen relic: a thimble-sized helm forged from fallen star iron. Cities called it a pest. Prophecies called it a thief. But in the walls of the world, where pipes hummed with forbidden songs and crumbs held the taste of forgotten wars, it had another name: the Unseen Regent. Tonight, it would gnaw the ropes binding the Clockwork Gale, a airship mothballed in the royal hangar, and turn the king’s own siege weapon into a key… or a coffin. Survival wasn’t enough anymore. The mouse hungered for legends.
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Search every corner for the numbers hidden within these images. You’ll need it!
