A mantle of anger descended upon Sheridan, twisting his face and gnarling his flesh. His entire body began to coil up like a brutal cage-fighter entering the ring. Raising his face to the raven sky, Sheridan clenched his fists with the bound-up fury of primal man. The anguish caught in his throat, choking him.
Then, taking a great breath, Sheridan inhaled the advancing storm. Filling up his lungs, Sheridan felt his very being connect with the melody. Awash in Mount Kailash’s breath, his stiffened vocal chords became revived, their brittle crust falling away. The words came slowly, pouring from his mouth in a fountain of disbelief, his doubts joining with the music of the wounded soul of earth. A flash of lightning traversed the rooftops, the refrain reverberating throughout the city ruins:
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