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... void. No server room. No smell of burning ozone or the metallic tang of blood. Just the earthy, grounding scent of a morning fire.
I opened my eyes. I was staring up at a thatched roof, darkened by years of smoke. Sunlight streamed through a small, square window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.
I sat up. The bed was a straw mattress covered in rough wool blankets. The room was small—a wooden table, a single chair, a shelf with a few clay pots.
"What..." My voi ...
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