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... hrough him. It was not physical – not entirely, at least – but it was real.
The sensation of a thousand invisible hooks sinking into his flesh, pulling at the marrow of his bones, at the very essence of what he was. He wanted to scream, but his voice had been stolen, held captive in his throat.
The entity before him shifted, its amorphous head tilting, watching. Its countless eyes blinked in eerie unison, each one digging into him, stripping him layer by layer.
"Power has ...
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