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README.md
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## One-Attempt generated example:
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<details>
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<summary> >[CLICK ME]
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**Title: A Harp for the Heart**
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*Chapter One: Homebound*
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"Do you hear that?" she asked into the gathering darkness outside their window. "Is that London?"
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</details>
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## Recipe
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## One-Attempt generated example:
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<details>
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<summary> >[CLICK ME] Write the opening chapter of a romance novel set in the late 1800s, where the protagonist, a war-weary music star returning to England after an injury in Afghanistan service...</summary>
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**Title: A Harp for the Heart**
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*Chapter One: Homebound*
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"Do you hear that?" she asked into the gathering darkness outside their window. "Is that London?"
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</details>
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<details>
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<summary> >[CLICK ME] Write the opening chapter of a dark fantasy book during the darkest age, where the protagonist, a war-weary woman is introduced returning to stand against the orcs and fight in what they falsely believe is the last battle. Introduce us as she is riding into her army to talk to some friends before they strike. </summary>
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---
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The night was pitch black with only the thinnest sliver of a moon slicing across the sky, barely enough to paint the horizon a sickly shade of greyish-blue. Below it stretched an expanse of rolling hills and forests that swayed like shadows in an eternal nightmare. The wind carried with it not the scents of living earth but the taint of the bloodied battlegrounds below, where for too long had men, women, and beasts clashed and bled.
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Ariath rode amidst this gloomy spectacle atop a pale stallion named Ebon, a beast as weary and war-weary as she was. Her dark cloak billowed around her like an inky cloud, contrasting starkly with the barren landscape through which they traveled. She had not chosen such darkness—nor any choice at all; tonight, every decision from waking to fighting lay in someone else's cold, indifferent hands.
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Ebon’s hooves stirred the heavy mud of long trampled fields, sinking silently into the earth as he treaded towards her rallying army. It was said that this night they would fight, not for honor nor country—no, those noble phantoms had vanished many a moon past—but to stand once more between the realm and its approaching destruction.
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Her chestnut mare, a beauty in years past before every bone seemed like it could break from its own weight, whinnied quietly under Ariath's calming voice. Her friends awaited not far ahead; they were an eclectic bunch—half-brother Raen, the steadfast knight who fought by her side for almost all their battles, Elaeril the mage known more as a wielder of shadow spells than life-giving magic, and finally Meryn the roguish, whose sword was as quick as his wit.
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</details>
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## Recipe
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