SYRATWO AND A HALF HOURS TO STEINHART RESEARCH ATTACKMy skull felt like it was splitting in two—no, into a thousand jagged fragments. Each one pulsed with white-hot electricity, stabbing through my brain like lightning bolts without mercy or rhythm. As if the universe itself had gripped my head with iron fists, forcing an avalanche of information—images, voices, memories that weren’t mine—into my mind at once. Each thought slammed into the next, cascading, crashing, overlapping like a storm of screaming data I couldn’t silence.I couldn’t decipher it all. There were too many.Too many voices, too many fragments of names, places, faces, sounds—like eavesdropping on a thousand nightmares all at once, and yet somehow, some part of me understood each and every one. It was unbearable.My chest grew heavy, lungs shrinking as if someone had bound them with invisible chains. I gasped, but the air tasted wrong.Around me, I saw their mouths move—Lucian. They were talking. Arguing, maybe.
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