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[Dark eyes glance up and then away, as though Myr could even see him being sheepish, surreptitious.

Sad, that it wasn't real. He clears his throat, approaching, sitting on a chair that might as well be made of fire.

Maybe that's how to know what's real. Earlier, it was so nice, with such a beautifully mapped course, and now...]

I should have realized it.

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