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... sleeves, and let his fingers hover above the tools. Each one pulsed in a rhythm he didn’t understand, like they were alive, waiting for him to touch them. One looked like a hammer, but it had no weight. Another looked like a chisel, but it moved on its own, twisting slightly in the air.

He picked up the hammer. It settled in his hand, cold and quiet. The kind of quiet that meant it had seen more than it wanted to.

He looked at the broken shard again—spinning slowly above the for ...

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