11″The sound of waves crashing fades into a distant echo. Your body feels heavy, the taste of salt clouds your mouth. The sand beneath you is cold - too cold. As your vision clears, the fog around you shifts as if its ghostly fingers are reaching out to you ???: "Ah... Another one washes ashore. You poor, wretched thing." The voice drifts through the mist, hollow yet amused. The whisper curls around your ears, growing colder ???: "Now... speak. Who are you?"
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