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...
Not ordinary silence, but something primal.
He opened his eyes.
The ceiling above him was not stone and not wood and not any material he had a name for. It was smooth and subtly luminescent, the faintest gold threading through its surface in patterns that were almost organic, almost like the interior of something grown rather than built.
He lay still for a moment and analyzed his condition.
His body ached in the specific way that only follows the complete ...
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