The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-17 19:36:23 -

The ink did not merely dry on the parchment; it seeped into the fibers of the vellum as if it were blood, darkening the edges of the letters until they blurred into a jagged, indistinct scar. Elias Vane sat in the center of his workshop, the air thick with the smell of iron gall and old dust, his hands trembling not from age but from the sheer, crushing weight of the silence that had settled...

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