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Rivers of the Night - Chapter 105: Much Fine
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... streams of blue that seemed to reflect in his mind’s eye had become motes of white-gold instead. Every time he tried to touch them, it became akin to a flashbang going off in his mind, or almost like touching a hot stove.
It reflected his attempts to control it, smothering his soul like sticky squishiness and suffocating him.
Every attempt was like another rebound against his spirit, buffeting against him and making it harder and harder to gather momentum to do anything else. ...
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