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... ntacles morphed into replicas of myself and Puriel, their features eerily accurate down to the smallest detail. With a silent command, they settled onto the ground beside us.

The fourth tentacle—a slender appendage that transformed into a stealthy mosquito, its whirring wings barely audible as it slipped through the bars of our cell and into the room beyond. Further into the building, the mosquito's form began to shift and contort, morphing into a grotesque semblance of a severed hand wi ...

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