Mortal
The bookcases are unlike any I've seen.
They're filled with leatherbound books, but behind them are other things: sculptures, paintings, strange trinkets, maps. I want to touch each and every detail, but this place feels too much like a museum. Brush against one thing and an alarm will go off.
The books themselves seem to glow with a strange light. I rub my tired eyes, realizing the weird light I'm seeing must be from looking at my textbooks all day and barely sleeping last night.
"This is incredible," I say.
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