Defenestrate The Masses
The Ever Present
Edward River tried to console his inner creature, but it was difficult comforting an instinct. The girl Hope represented much to it, and she had been her namesake. Edward wanted to make sure the Rook wasn’t divested of it, as hope was all they had.
The hunt had gone cold, the last poem having stumped him. The Rook had lay silent for days, so Edward decided to return to his scavenging ways as a temporary fix to his dampened ambition, so that when the thought took him and a solution presented itself, he would retake the mantle and continue the quest. He took wide berths around Proctors, unsure that if push came to shove, the Rook would protect him or not. Edward would hide, skirt the centre of the City, unless provoked to enter some hole by guidance of a glint or other. This day a particularly glowing glint caught his eye.
Helena Romaine, the one who knew and didn’t tell, was in heated debate with another familiar figure. Not a stir from the Rook told Edward to hide, lest he was unprotected against Anathema. The giant had Helena by the wrist, their debate a little one sided.
Edward couldn’t discern complete sentences, but he did hear words like betrayal, two-faced, liability - the kinds of words that led to very few options. Anathema was mad. Edward supposed that if Anathema felt himself wronged, someone like Helena stood very little chance. He could destroy her with one swipe of his fist. Perhaps Edward couldn’t directly participate, but he could make Anathema aware that there were witnesses, so Edward broke cover, making noise. His control was a little wayward, however, as he forgot himself and began to run. His progress was slow, but it did make Anathema hesitate, letting Helena go, where she scuttled to a safe wall, a mix of relief and concern on her face. Anathema simply looked at Edward, smiled and ran. Edward caught up to Helena.
“Are you alright?” he asked simply. Helena visibly relaxed.
“I – I think so.” she replied breathlessly. Edward looked to her, then looked to where Anathema had fled. He patted Helena’s arm sympathetically.
“I – have to go.” he said as he turned and ran after the giant.
“Be careful!” called Helena, genuine concern in her voice.
Would the Rook listen? Could it see the necessity in the moment? Had it the capability of reactive thought, in the light of events? Edward could only hope so, as he neared the giant Anathema. Then the ground shook below.
#
By the time Edward had caught up with Anathema, the Rook was fully realised. The giant had taken the high ground, pacing back and forth on the approach to the Vestibular Tunnel, surrounded by back facing walls. A prime location.
“Ah, so the bird returns.” laughed Anathema, his arms outstretched in disarmed greeting, “I was wondering what was keeping you. Slow to react, I suppose, what with that bird brain of yours. Or is it the slow wits of the scratched up man beneath? You see, you robbed me of so much ambition the day you flew into my life, birdman. I was to be heir to the throne, but Daedalus has struck me low. He doesn’t believe I have the will to lead, since I cannot deal with a creature with the brain the size of a pea. I had ambition! I had privilege and control! You brought me to your level, a bottom feeder, a seed strewn hen picker! How dare you assume you are better than I! Don’t just look at me, you vermin! Fight! Scream! Do something!” Anathema’s complexion altered to a blood filled purple, the veins on his exposed skin pulsing with each rage filled heart beat. The Rook didn’t react, merely the dancing tendrils at the Rooks feet turned up where they couldn’t connect, giving the impression of black flames, as the tips danced as fire would, reacting to the subtle wind that dropped into the recess of the City.
“This is beyond the pale! You destroyed me, bird! Hit me!” The air around Anathema seemed to visibly pulse with each wracked breath, yet all it took was a twitch.
Anathema withdrew two separate lengths of chain from behind him, one in each hand, and whipped the tips in the Rook’s direction. But the Rook was already moving. It dropped low, lower than its full frame would logically allow, avoiding the strike of chain above. The Rook grabbed the chains on their natural return to Anathema, using the momentum to drop kick him in the chest, sending him into the structure of the approach, a grumble of impact loosening a few pieces of masonry, leaving a large dent behind. The giant was shocked, finding his senses again, and the Rook returned to its position, resembling a fiery dark shadow in the daylight. Anathema found his muscles and charged them with adrenaline, pumping them to skin crackling size. As he rose to his feet, preparing a head first charge at the Rook, it took minuscule fractions of a second later for the Rook to be in a mirrored pose, awaiting the unspoken call to attack, launching into a sprint towards Anathema as he was thrusting towards the Rook. With a sound akin to a sonic boom, they connected in the middle, and smoky tendrils reacted to the still accelerating momentum by shaking and shuddering to a speedy brake. Anathema’s attacks were obscured by the continual flurry of the Rook, fluttering like a flock in attack. The push and pull took the pair from pillar to post, connecting with objects a mere secondary distraction to the onslaught. Anathema, it occurred to Edward, who was a mere observer to the action, was as unique as he and the Rook were. He could take blows, deliver blows, last long after many others would be pulverised. If he wasn’t so mad, they could have been compadres. But Anathema had to be destroyed.
They lifted into the air, by the Rook’s will, and this didn’t stop Anathema. Three times he was dropped from a height that would kill lesser beings, but upon inspection took the fight up once more. The giant punched and the Rook crashed through a wall, regaining momentum and returning the compliment, sending Anathema into a reinforced concrete stanchion. The strut bent, buckled and broke, sending the building it foundationally held erect, into a slow collapse. They were no longer unnoticed, as appeared a feast of onlookers observing from vantage points of danger. As the building collapsed, the Rook broke from its attack, dropping low to catch some falling and screaming citizens, rising to hold back the mass of the building, but Anathema was were the Rook didn’t want him. Falling pieces of the crumbling building dropped toward the Anathema, which he simply punched away like they were mud, advancing on the Rook with every perilous moment.
“Look at you! You save those who don’t deserve it! You risk your life for the unimportant! This is why you die!” boomed Anathema through the crashes and smashes of a slowly disseminating building, awaiting his opportunity.
The Rook pushed on, attempting to hold back the worst of the destruction. Anathema was there with a charge of such power that took the two of them through an internal journey of the building to its other side. They crashed into sunlight as the building completed its death throes with a mushroom cloud of dust and debris. The face of the Rook dissolved, revealing a seething and angry spitting face of Edward River. He used the body of the Rook to grasp Anathema in a death grip, lifting him up higher than before. Anathema struggled, but it gave Edward time for his right to reply.
“Look what you’ve done! Look what people like you do! You destroy! You take, until you bleed them dry! And why? For what?” Edward Hybrid dropped Anathema upon a secluded section of the Above. Even in the epitome of rage, Edward River could not bring himself to kill the mad creature before him.
“Because you took it from me! Now no one can have it!” screamed Anathema venomously, pacing just out of reach for the Edward Hybrid, looking for a way to bring the host and his companion low.
“You sound like a child. Do you hear me ranting about what was taken from me? An identity for one. I am neither one thing nor the other. I am a creation. I am made of many people - not a whole, but separate parts. Do you see me cry out, begging for what I want?”
“I do not beg, bird. I commit!”
“You follow. That is your purpose. You are a tool for Daedalus Devereaux, nothing more.”
“Don’t fool yourself that you aren’t either! But you call it another word. You call it adventure, you call it justice! It is all pretty much the same! You think this fight wasn’t planned? I drew you into a trap, with the help of Helena Romaine! Ha! You mean you thought she was your friend? Your confederate? She played you as much as she plays Devereaux! Still! For he is weak!”
“And you want power? Power to destroy?”
“Is there any other kind?” laughed Anathema.
Edward Hybrid dropped to the space before Anathema, “Go home,” he soothed, “Realise the truth - the world needs healing and I am the cure. There is no place for you now.” Anathema laughed. He laughed even when the joke was cold. He laughed as he took the Edward Hybrid over the edge. They fell, and even so he laughed. They accelerated, yet he continued to laugh. They reached terminal velocity, and he was still laughing. The Rook, now complete once more struggled free, and Anathema had not stopped laughing. Crashing into the Riddle, straight through the thick earth, deep into the Below, as the Rook observed, deep deep into the detritus, he laughed no more.
#
She was where he had left her. Helena Romaine sat on a step, her head in her hands, where she looked up as the de-Rooked Edward River advanced on her. he wasn’t angry. He was disappointed.
She rose, supplication etched on her features, “You don’t understand. You don’t know how much of a hold that man has.”
“I know you lied to me. You knew I was hosting the Rook, and you used me for some other’s purpose.”
“I know you will never believe me, but I have only ever wanted to help you. Devereaux used me - Anathema used me. But look at me? I only want you to succeed. I know why this is so important. The fate of the world is in balance. He succeeds and darkness forever will follow. If you succeed, then the world will begin to heal. Look at me Edward! Look how low I was brought! I have access to resources – “
“Where have I heard that before? That’s right, the time you led me into a trap back at Daedalus Devereaux’s office. You think me that simple I cannot see past your lies? Your manipulation? I know myself now. I am not that pathetic creature I once was. I am Me plus Rook. Together, unstoppable.”
“Wait, Edward. You don’t know it all yet. There are still things that must be revealed to you before you are completely Conrad Miller’s creation – “
“Don’t dare repeat His name! He is so much more than you, you insignificant – “
“I meant no insult, Edward. I just wanted to draw your attention to the full capacity of your ability that the Great Man instilled in you. I have seen his plans, Edward. From the first time I saw you I had to know all about you – “
“Now you talk as though of love? What other tricks will you employ to bait me to your will?”
“I only want what is best for this City, Edward. I only want what is best for you.”
“I do too, and I know my place, my duty. I don’t know yours. By evidence alone all I see is deceit and manipulation for nefarious darkness.”
“Just trust me, at arms length if need be. If not for me or you, then accept my help for the sake of the City?”
“Helena Romaine, trust is earned. So earn it.” Edward strode away, directionless for the sake of drama. Helena followed on.
Dragging the weight, Edward eventually relented and they walked side by side. Helena revealed research by Devereaux’s philological minions that the verse led to a mirrored place, a place of observation and inspiration. The Observatory.
Since the near destruction of the world by the hands of the blackness - the corrupted - certain parts of the City had been walled out of reach. The Observatory was one such relic of the Builder’s age that the rulers considered necessary for segregation. To gain entry to even the outskirts of this area would defy even the hardiest warrior - even the Rook.
“We could just charge in?” joked Helena, missing the mood.
“Why not just ask? Don’t be ornery.”
“I felt we needed a little lightening up?”
“Remember what I said. Trust is earned. You are earning nothing by humour. Sensible suggestions or silence, if you please?”
Helena’s brow furrowed, giving a passable impression of thought, “We cannot go through it. We, at least you, cannot go over it. That leaves us with under it. And there lies the dilemma.”
“I think I know how it can be done.” said Edward River, retracing their steps back into the darkness of the City.
#
Edward stood cross-armed opposite Axon Dendrite, pouring over virtually faded plans of the Drift, that led back to when it had a purpose other than the storage of the lacklustre, the fetid and the dangerous, back when Utopia was a desire rather than a concept. Axon had scoured the detritus in his time for anything discarded, and such were the plans of the Builders now in his possession. Fail to plan, plan to fail. This was his axiom. Helena kept her distance, poking through some random piles of paper.
“You know the way?” asked Edward, a little jolted.
“I believe so. The Builders were meticulous in their plans, but age and those discarded render many passages obsolete and untraversible. There are ways, then there are ways. It depends how urgent it is and how much danger you wish to put yourself in. Speaking of which – “ Axon pulled Edward into a conspiratorial huddle, “Are you sure about her? Remember what I told you. She cannot be trusted. She works for them. She would sooner slit your throat than placate you. Edward, I tell you she is dangerous.”
“I’m grateful for your concern. I am sure she has good intentions beneath the years of manipulative propaganda. She deserves a chance to prove her words are truth, that I can trust her.”
“You are a greater man than I, Edward. I would lead her to the Drift Creatures and let them have their way with her. You see the best in people. Make sure it isn’t your downfall.”
“I saw the best in you Axon. Was I wrong?” said Edward with a rare smile.
“There is, of course, an exception to every rule.”
“I’m sure there is, Axon. I’m sure there is.” said Edward, returning to Helena.
“He doesn’t like me.” she said sheepishly.
“He doesn’t trust you. It’s an entirely different thing.”
“You trust me, though?”
“There is much about you I admire, but you have yet to prove your trust to me. Are you ready to go?”
“I think so.” she replied, waiting until Edward’s back was turned before she thrust her hand into her pocket, secreting something from the storage room.
“Ready whenever you are, Axon.” called Edward.
“Then follow.” said Axon Dendrite.
#
The path upon which they walked was so dark that any available light was eaten up by the messy walls of waste. Guidance was made by following the sound of the footfalls of the one in front. Thankfully, after only a few minutes walk, they dropped into a large and well lit area. Axon warned them not to dawdle, as open spaces down here meant many eyes, and most of them were hungry. The things down here kept their food alive, picking at them until the last breath. This caused some amusement to Helena, but Edward decided to leave it be. It was not the time, nor the place.
Once they were safely on the other side of the open space and down another passage, marginally more illuminated than the first, Axon Dendrite took the time to quiz the lady of the lords.
“Helena, we have not had time to speak. Tell me, why? Why come on such a dangerous jaunt, and you a lady of leisure?”
“You don’t know me, Mr Dendrite. Don’t presume.”
“I was only enquiring, for hope’s sake?”
“I share Edward’s desire for a free peaceful City.”
“Then why follow the words of the man who desires to burn it to the ground?”
“As I said, don’t presume to know me. My motives aren’t for your investigation.” Edward listened on, no interference required for his own inquisitionary thoughts.
“Then tell me this; do you mean harm to Edward River?”
“Edward River? Of course not!” she protested.
“What about the Rook?” put in Edward.
“No, of course not. Of course not.” But Edward sensed the hesitation unspoken in her words. The affirmation also drew suspicion. He didn’t act upon it, however - he wanted to see how it all ended.
Taking the next passage was a revelation. It didn't expand to unnecessary disregard. Instead a habitable space had been etched from the rubble of other people’s discarded rubbish, with liveable quarters that had been constructed from the mess, where a semblance of civility could be observed. Idyllic indeed, in a place of such disregard, if it were not for the fields of Proctors here, displacing the people of the Drift. From their vantage point, the trio could observe the rounding up and kettling of the inhabitants to a literal dead end. Once encased by Proctors, said Proctors would push into the people, shock stick in hand, electrocuting them systematically like a herd of diseased animals. A small group of stragglers attempted to escape, but were quickly shocked to the ground, further shocked in the puddle they lay face first in. No mercy was shown, no quarter given. It was a massacre; genocide of the Below people. The whole field from on high looked like oversized ants attacking another swarm of similar but less defended ants. People were dragged screaming from their homes, by their arms, their feet and their hair - no discrimination for the old, the weak or the diseased.
“You must do something!” whispered Axon Dendrite, hurriedly to Edward.
“What do you expect me to do? I’m one man!”
“You’re more than one man, Edward. You are at least a culmination of those who made you, those who died to get you here? Don’t you owe them the service of your conviction? The Builders? Conrad? Yourself?” explained Helena Romaine.
“But even still, me, the Rook? We can’t take on so many and hope to survive. It’s insurmountable.”
“One could say a man who fell from the Phantasma couldn’t survive. And yet here you are.”
“If the Rook stands for anything, it must stand for the people; those Above, those Below and those in-between.” added Axon.
The cacophony of unbalanced battle continued. More people died as Edward deliberated. It was true, he and the Rook must stand for the people, whatever the background, whatever the circumstance they found themselves in. He couldn’t discriminate, as the Proctors did before him. He had an obligation to the meaning of his creation. But he shouldn’t be foolish. He should use guile and stealth - something to date the Rook had not observed, and without it they were doomed. On the other side of the area was their goal, the opening that led to the old City - from where the Proctors had stemmed. Perhaps there was more going on there than was first believed? The City was evidently fighting and eating itself apart, so it was logical that more diabolic schemes lay yonder.
Edward left his companions behind as he crept to a point of egress, hidden by a makeshift dwelling surrounded by others, while a Proctor stood guard. Edward braced himself, a silent prayer to the Rook to observe the concept of concealment, and called it forward. The Rook appeared without pomp - an audible sigh, almost human, revealed the shift from one state to the other.
The Rook was bathed in shadow, as was almost all of the homesteads here in the Below. There was a rustle and the guarding Proctor was yanked into that darkness, a sharp crack, and the gliding smoke revealed itself fluidly, only a hiss to mark its passage and the crack of necks to draw attention. The Rook slid between Below dweller and Proctor. Knowing a good thing when they saw it, the denizens ran to the safety of the darkness as the mysterious black mist danced in between them and relieved them of the Killing Squad members of these Proctors. The habitants of this place weren’t like the ones Edward had encountered further back in the recesses of the Drift. The taint of disease wasn’t as strong, the killing chemicals hadn’t deformed them as much, but Edward suspected they were just the first of the Below people to be culled. Devereaux, even if he served another master, had a lot to answer to. And Edward would make him answer, that was for sure.
The Proctors nearest to the Rook’s destruction became aware of the commotion behind them. They turned to investigate, but did not count on the Rook’s sense of camouflage. One Proctor almost stepped upon the Rook, who lay low, the essence of a dark pool, before it rose to full height and sMothered the Proctor in the folds of its smoke. This worked a further three times, the third taking two Proctors at once. It was nearing the point when there could be no subterfuge, when the hidden could not help be revealed, but Edward was ready for this moment. He bid the Rook to rise into the fetid air, where Edward revealed his head in order to speak. Below him, the Proctors had begun to gather, reaching pathetically for him, when Edward called out.
“People of the Drift! Look now! You are no longer the victimised minority! You outnumber the Proctors three to one! People of the Drift! Take back your homes!” Slowly, but inexorably, the cry of realisation, the call to arms and the counter attack began. Just as the people of the Drift realised the consequence of these words, so did the Proctor’s, many retreating and making for the exit, while others defended themselves with slow results from the determined and united peoples of the Below. Edward landed a safe distance away, joined by Axon Dendrite and Helena Romaine. She had a smile of pride, impossible to hide on her face. Axon was slapping Edward Hybrid on the arm, as he released the Rook from its current obligation, where the tendrils, still receding, made the impression of sniffing Axon curiously to see if it was a threat. Axon carefully removed his hand and fell into line with the other two as they pushed their way carefully through the melee.
#
The exit to the old City shed the clothes of the Below, as the detritus gave quarter to established brick. The way was still not without danger, as the scared Proctors fled from the carnage below, connecting with roaming squads of other Proctors, on regulated routes about the secretive area. The trio kept to the shadows and the back streets, eventually coming to the end of an alleyway that faced the Observatory. The old brick met with the white metal lid, domed and cracked on one side, where the idea of a telescope tipped into the early evening sky. The Gasten had begun to rise, so time was pressing on.
Edward turned to Axon Dendrite, visibly uncomfortable in his current environment. Axon knew the Below. That was where he resided, and Edward knew this, “Axon, thank you. We couldn’t have done this without your immeasurable help. Return to your home. The dangers beyond aren’t yours to conquer.” Axon naturally attempted feigned refusal, but the relief was obvious in the way Axon held himself. Axon Dendrite seemed to feel some reparation towards Edward - but for Edward, Axon had no responsibility towards either him or the Rook. He was a victim of circumstance and the forced actions of a power bully. It was more prevalent to say that both the Rook and Edward owed this diminutive man a great debt - perhaps even their existence. Axon rushed off to the security of the Below, scuttling back down the passage they had exited by. Within seconds he was gone.
“It’s going to be difficult entering through the front door.” remarked Helena, her attention already on the job at hand.
“It will be difficult any route we take. There are groups of Proctor all over the place. Below is impossible. Axon told me the catacombs hadn’t been built until the renovation of the City. This part has no egress from below. Above is impossible, due to the handful of Proctors circling the dome. There is no back way, as it buffets the building there. Besides, any door would be closely guarded.”
“At least be assured of one thing - Daedalus doesn’t have the Volume, otherwise this area would be free of the Guardians with Wings.”
“Don’t be so sure. There may be another trap ensuing.”
“Not from me!” retorted Helena defensively.
“Calm down. I never said you had, did I? Perhaps Devereaux wants me. He tried before.”
Helena pulled herself artificially to a new height, straightening non existent creases from her crimson jacket, “Then let me further prove it to you. Let me do this for you. Daedalus won’t hurt me. He needs me. Edward, find your destiny.” She lifted herself onto her tiptoes and kissed Edward warmly on his scar-covered cheek. She smiled cheekily and walked out into the foray.
The Proctors noticed her almost immediately. She strode confidently down the middle of the street, her heels clacking on the concrete, a personable smile on her lips and a natural feminine swing to her gait. One of the Proctors by the door to the Observatory removed his shock stick and charged it, ready for use. Edward took the opportunity to gain a better position for reaching the door. He took his cues from Helena’s brazen stroll.
The Proctors neared her - those above, those by the door, now a wandering squad of them - suddenly realising what was going on. Helena stopped with enough time to take off her shoes, throw them aside and begin running. She was remarkably quick, outpacing the Proctors who followed her. But Edward couldn’t watch her departure. She had given her freedom for him, for his task. He slipped inside the Observatory and hid amongst the brick-a-brac in the entrance hall, regaining his focus.
The interior was of the Builder’s Age. The beauty of the outside was surpassed by the beauty of the inside. Pillars were in relief from the mason’s tool carving, each pillar topped with a different object - one showed the Earth as it stood when the Builders first conceived it, another showed a map of the night sky, each pinprick of light named and clustered into a constellation. Another had the head of some foul beast, perhaps as a ward against evil. Two more were missing their figurehead, but at the centre of the gap between each pillar carved from the rock around it, was the imitation of a vase in recess to an imagined window. The carved flowers and buds spilled over the vase, cascading down in a waterfall effect of nature left to run wild - like living rock expressing its past and neglect. The pillars made a corridor to the heavy stone steps, spiralling up from a split sprig, going both clockwise and anticlockwise on their separate but conjoined journey to the floor above, where the merest glint of light suggested the open dome. The stairs gave the impression of a struck tree split asunder. It was evident the Builders appreciated the beauty of nature, but they also demonstrated that the functional could be equally imagined to create awe and splendour. Those who looked upon it saw the Builder’s respect for the world around them, that nature was as much a part of life as nurture was to the buildings that invaded it. Edward ascended the staircase cautiously.
The anticlockwise staircase ended halfway up, weather-beaten and decayed by the only remedy nature had to the monstrosities of man - that of water. A prolonged period of exposure from a constant drip would find the weak point in any man-made object, as it did here - the drip-drip of water eroded the stone until it collapsed under the pressure. Edward transferred to the other branch and continued his ascent.
There was a remarkable lack of dust or debris here. Just the age-eroded stone, turned black in parts from exposure to differing environments; the effects of the seasons more evident in the old brick and stone. At the top of the staircase, breaking briefly through the solid floor, Edward caught his first glimpse of the mighty telescope. It sat on a wheeled set of gears, varying in size and function, where the teeth of each gear sat rustily and solidly into its partner. The chances of the contraption moving again would require a feat of extraordinary engineering.
At the eyepiece, a reclining chair was placed for the viewer’s convenience. Edward took the opportunity to look through the optic eyepiece, glimpse once at what the last operator had beheld. The lens was cracked and dust smudged, but the view was unmistakable. It was the Laboratory of Conrad Miller. It was even more than this. It pushed through the broken window that had let in all the cold air. It faced the construct of Conrad’s imagination; it was the elevated bed upon which Edward had awoke. Whoever it was that had last operated the telescope had watched his development - his awakening. This made Edward River more uncomfortable than he could ever have imagined. The mind raced to think of who it was who had done this, but the options were legion.
Edward pushed himself away from the eyepiece, climbed out of the chair and mused his predicament. There was someone out there who had watched his inception, his growth and his subsequent awakening. It made Edward’s scarred skin crawl to realise someone could have watched unimpeded from the safety of distance. But the Volume was yet calling to him. Pretty soon the Proctors would return to their perch, and his time would be over. He searched for the book in the spotless room.
The walls were in relief, like below, but here they depicted growth, expansion, reaching for the Above, and the vision of the Builders who would have sat down here and imagined one day being in the sky, in a developing world full of wonder and spirit. They didn’t foresee the destruction that had come, however. How could they? Their ideals were lofty, altruistic and intentional. Then the rot set in and there was nothing they could do but succumb.
Each panel showed a concept. Only one showed signs of disturbance. It depicted the building of the Observatory itself, with men resembling the Builders pointing skyward in anticipation of what would be revealed. Edward felt around the pronounced rock, but his fingers found no purchase. Black tendrils crept from Edward’s finger tips, searching for the cracks in the stone. The smoke continued to expand until it pulled at the stone, with the panel sliding out as though on greased wheels. Inside was the Volume, “Growing With Apathy” its title. It was no wonder they couldn’t find it. Conrad had obviously set the trigger to only work for the combination of Edward and the Rook. What more did Conrad foresee in Edward’s future? Perhaps the book would reveal this secret. But there was no time. He had to return to the relative safety of the Wedge. The ground rumbled below him and the Rook appeared. Thankfully the sky was dark enough now that his exit would be unseen.
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