The Pale Letter
The heavy oak lectern stands before you, a monument to your own endurance, its surface worn smooth by the friction of decades of chalk dust and the nervous tremors of a scholar’s hand. You are Professor Elias Thorne, and you are standing in the Grand Hall of the University of St. Jude’s, a place where the air is always thick with the scent of old parchment and the dust of history that settles...
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