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     The truth about the murders around LaRue Swamp was as murky as the waters themselves. The dead—Tori, Geena, April, Penny, Elsbeth, and Weston—shared only one connection: they'd all crossed paths with LaRue Swamp.

     Lurking in those tangled, moss-covered depths of rot and ruin was Lucia. Once human, she had been cursed by the swamp under the pale gleam of a half-crescent moon. Scales wove into her flesh, her bones turned sleek and strange, and the swamp pulsed within her like a second, insidious heartbeat.

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     The swamp’s curse turned Lucia into a predator who knew how to stalk without leaving a trace, who watched, waited, and killed in places where her victims felt safest. It whispered instructions in the night to Lucia and twisted her thoughts until death became a necessity, not a choice. No two murders were the same because the swamp itself thrived on chaos.

     Lucia wasn't merely a killer—she was the living embodiment of LaRue's vengeance. The swamp didn’t just take lives; it carved them into infamous legends, while the siren of LaRue Swamp, Lucia, stood at its sinister core.

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