… realm. In each, varying scenes warped into the same foreseeable vision: I’d wake beside him. Survey the room, the sheets, the morning light, delicate and disarming. Admire his features, softened as he slept on. In each, a faint roar would rise, bringing with it some sense of impending urgency. In each, I’d perch above him, lay hands on his body, shriek some language of the ancients. And in each, his tumors would begin to glow. A bright blue hue that, as a deafening roar enveloped us, …
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