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... He felt the cool night air against his skin; his shirt had been removed and there was something wet on his back.

So far he hadn’t been injured, but he couldn’t depend on it staying that way. He needed to do something. He needed a plan. He felt groggy; it was hard to think. His Mental Resistance was telling him that there was some kind of magic trying to keep him asleep, and only actively deciding to wake up with the effects of the potion of Lucid Dreams still in his system had overcome ...

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