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... g in my head. The waterfall outside was a constant, thundering curtain of white noise, but inside the damp cave, the silence was heavy.
It was dawn. Or at least, I assumed it was dawn. In the Forest of Whispers, the sun didn’t rise; the grey fog just got slightly lighter, shifting from charcoal to ash.
I sat up, wincing as my stiff back protested against the stone floor. My "mental fatigue" bar was hovering at 82%, which meant the headache was gone, replaced by a dull fuzziness, ...
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