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... ed by nightmares. Instead, something had stirred him gently from sleep, like a hand on his shoulder or a whispered name in his ear. He sat up in the dim early light and listened. The wind rustled the leaves beyond their walls. The breath of twelve women, steady and warm, filled the space behind him. All was still. Yet his heart beat with that old, persistent rhythm, the pulse of the unknown, of something waiting just beyond the veil.
He stepped outside. The morning air was cooler than us ...
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