An old bookshelf is overrun by Mycochrome, its spines and pages split by tangled

An old bookshelf is overrun by Mycochrome, its spines and pages split by tangled veins of glowing blue. Crimson caps burst from cracked bindings and dusty parchment, spilling spores like motes of memory into the air. The fungi pulse softly in the dim library light, feeding on forgotten knowledge and rooting themselves deep into the language of decay.
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An old bookshelf is overrun by Mycochrome, its spines and pages split by tangled veins of glowing blue. Crimson caps burst from cracked bindings and dusty parchment, spilling spores like motes of memory into the air. The fungi pulse softly in the dim library light, feeding on forgotten knowledge and rooting themselves deep into the language of decay.
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