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... me too deep, too silent. The bed beneath me felt wrong; too cold, too hard, as though sculpted from polished stone rather than comforting layers of silk and cotton. I reached out instinctively, searching for the familiar shape of Smaug or even the comforting presence of Mara and Elira hovering nearby.

Nothing.

No dragon. No servants. No school.

Only emptiness, swallowing the echoes of my shallow breaths.

[Relax, drama queen. You're not dead. Yet.]

I drew ...

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