|Ancient Journal IV|
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|In-Game Title||Day ?|
|Detail||The paper of this journal|
|Location||Chest inside Bristlethorn|
|Preceded By||Ancient Journal III|
The count is lost. The chorus now enshrouds me completely, a magic so sublime to blaspheme other thought. Beneath the hymn I hear a rumbling from the fathoms. It sings abrading notes from a cursed lyre.