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... t of dawn filtered through the heavy curtains of his room, casting long shadows across the ceiling. The lingering fragments of his nightmare clung to him like cobwebs—disjointed flashes of a battlefield, a searing pain in his chest, and a voice that wasn't his, yet echoed in his mind.

He sat up, running a hand through his damp hair. These dreams… no, these memories—were becoming clearer with each passing night. But they weren't his memories; he knew that much now. The man in the dreams—t ...

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