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Silhouine

Yael only understands the nature of the puzzle when the smoothly closing wall tries to crush her. It can’t be more than a few minutes past five.

Why all this trouble, why drugged darts and ventilation and tricky little games of punctuality? If this place is a tomb, why not fill it with stones and bomb the mouth shut?

Because someone wanted it to be solved.

Four more downward twists of the path: she catches up to Silhouine in a vast space occupied by a suspended ship of impossible beauty.

“The Loveblind Bird,” whispers Silhouine, then vomits and collapses in siezure.

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