You must join them when we get there, Gloam wrote, and my stomach churned with nausea as I read the words. I can’t. My handwriting was shaky. I can’t eat people. I can’t watch people get roasted alive. If you do not, YOU will be roasted alive, Adam. Gloam was trembling. You will be eaten. You will die. My panicked breaths whistled through my nose behind my mask, and my eyes prickled with heat. “I don’t want to die, Gloam,” I whispered out loud, my voice soft and wobbly with terror. “I’m scared.” Letting out a low sound of distress, he scribbled hurriedly. Join them. Please. At least you’ll be
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