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... le beneath his feet, the sea-murk lazily curling over the shattered glyphs like smoke underwater. His hand was still wrapped around Lunari’s, her fingers soft and webbed, her grip warm but slack like she didn’t fully grasp she was holding something real.

That voice—whoever it was—was gone now. Just gone.

Allen furrowed his brow, still looking around like it might echo back.

"...Wait," he muttered, "Who even are you?"

No answer.

"Hey," he said louder. "The ...

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