They Have Apostrophes

Fulguralis's eyes fluttered open. White walls reflected white floors mirroring a white ceiling. Light seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The warlock squinted and sat up. Well, he was already sitting. This must be a dream. He last remembered laying down, closing his eyes... and then this. It didn't feel like a dream, though. It felt real. Then again, dreams often did. A shuffle behind him set his back rigid. Someone else was in the room. He spun in a whirl of robes, pulling out ...

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