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... over me like a bucket of icy water had been poured straight into my blood.
My heartbeat slowed, my breath thinned. The light dimmed, as though someone had turned down the brightness on the world itself.
I looked at my hand.
It was no longer made of flesh.
The outline remained—my fingers, the lines of my palm—but it all looked hazy.
Wisps of black smoke clung to shape, forming the suggestion of a hand more than the real thing.
I took a slow step for ...
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