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Chapter 2: The Wrong Face in the Water
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Chapter 4: The Compass
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... ng breathing.
I freeze. The rock in my left hand turns heavy. My right hand finds the sabre’s grip, not drawing yet. The dark ahead shifts—low to the ground, pale against pale.
It steps into the weak spill of light from the ceiling crack. Four legs, long body, white hide stretched thin over muscle. No eyes—just milky scars where they should be. Whiskers like wire sweep the air. Its jaws open and I see too many teeth, all the same size, like a zipper made of knives.
A cave ...
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