DECLAN
The first thing I knew was pain. Not the clean, sharp agony of a broken bone, but a deep, dull ache, as if my entire body had been wrung out like a wet rag and left to bake in the sun. My throat felt scraped raw, coated in gravel and ash.
I forced my eyes open.
A white ceiling. The sterile hum of fluorescent lights. The unmistakable medicinal scent of a healing ward, a smell that never heralded good news. My body was swathed in
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