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Shamal placed his hand on Mali's head. It continuously surged between hot and cold. "Mali, listen to me." he said, his voice commanding. "I think I know where we can get you a cure."
 
Another note fell into James' hands, the note written in purple ink, the lines flowing into one another:

I'm so sorry for causing all this. I wish I could just re-do it all...

Well, I'm going to die, so don't worry about it anymore. By my prediction, after tonight, you will never have to hear from me again. This will all go away.

-M
 
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Another piece of paper appeared in his hands, she was too weak to speak anymore.

No, it is my fault. She would have never been mad if it wasn't for me.
 

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