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The headache pulled her down into it.
She was asleep in six minutes.
The cabin was quiet.
Outside, the storm had found its voice — the specific, consistent tone of sea weather that has arrived at its intended intensity and is now simply present, not escalating, just occupying. The porthole showed black water and intermittent white.
Raven sat with his back against the wall at the head of the fold-out.
Not planning to sleep. The Incubus biology didn’t ...
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