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As Scheherazade spun tales, lengthening the days she stayed alive, she felt like she was continuously falling in a tailspin, drawing closer and closer to the ground with every story. She feared the day her last story faded away and no other story came to take its place.

But that day would not be today nor tomorrow nor the day after that, and with that strengthening thought in her mind, Scheherazade turned to face Shayryār as she began to spin that night’s tale.