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I'm runing. Darkness is gathering around. Bottomless, impenetrable, viscous as pitch. Her long tentacles try to grab my legs, but I don't let them. Every time I feel that tenacious hugs are getting closer, I force myself to speed up. It helps, but not for long. As if trying to keep me from escaping, the darkness makes the air thicken. It becomes something like a jelly, through which you have to break through with difficulty. I'm afraid to stop. Everything in my mind, drowning in pure concentrated fear, tells me to move. I can't let the darkness overtake me. It is forbidden…

The strength is leaving me. I am an ordinary person. Simple Kirill from an orphanage in Moscow. Not awakened, not the so-called "Shield of the Witches", I am nobody. A shadow running from the darkness that wants to swallow her. I need light, it will warm, give me strength, will not allow me to dissolve. It will make my contours clearer and more expressive, preventing them from merging with the environment.

My fear
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