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Telomir

Telomir pulls the fabric and the surface of the world rushes by: trees, hills, a cliff. Corinna’s white-shock hair stands out against the horizon.

“Found you,” he grins, touching the rune in his belt called Zoom In. The veil blurs, and he’s there.

“Corinna,” he starts. She glares at him and spits: tentacles with teeth boil out of the rock. He touches Edit This Page and turns them to butter. She’s already flickering; when he gets to the edge she’s flapping away, a monstrous bat.

Telomir breathes deep, whispers “true name of the hawk,” touches I’m Feeling Lucky, and jumps.

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