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... ced.

It was talking. He wanted to talk back to it, have a conversation, find out who or what it was, ask about that sword.

Somehow, without lungs or a throat, the shrunken head produced a voice like honey that smothered the sounds of combat, the blood pumping in his ears, and his own panicked breaths.

It was smooth, understanding, its eyes so bright and attentive. The type of voice he could listen to for hours, reading a book, holding a lecture, giving advice …

"T ...

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