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The floorboards rumble beneath your pounding feet, echoing with the frantic thrum of your heart. Dust plumes in your wake as you weave through towering shelves, arms scrabbling for precious cargo – leather-bound tomes whispering of spells and secrets. Chairs topple like dominoes, metal vending machines groan in protest, but you're a blur, a whirlwind fueled by desperation. Each book clutched is a shield, each dodged obstacle a bridge across the chasm of danger. Every step takes you closer, the thrumming in your veins reaching a crescendo, the line between human and something more blurring with each desperate lunge. Run, leap, snatch, dodge – the transformation demands haste, demands abandon. This library, once a haven of quiet contemplation, is now a gauntlet, a crucible. And only on the other side, beyond the reach of grasping shadows, will you find the power to change, to become what destiny wills. So run, scholar, run. Let the pages flutter in your wake, let the echoes of your flight be a battle cry against the encroaching darkness. For in the distance, whispers of wings and fangs tease the air, urging you on, promising transformation's embrace. Run, for the magic within you strains to burst forth, and only flight can save you.
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