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... hest still hitching from the archive’s stale air. Sweat rolled along her temples, stinging the cut above her brow. When Rodion’s announcement vibrated through the visor’s audio grille, the words sank like stones into water she was already struggling to keep her head above.
<Next trial: internal archetypes—maskless. Initiating.>
There was no friendly chime, no countdown. The torches lining the corridor guttered out as though snuffed by invisible fingers, plunging her into ve ...
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