The Wistful Cipher
"You found it," Elias said. He did not look up. His fingers, stained with the black ink of the vellum, moved with a steady, mechanical precision across the parchment. "I did," Thomas replied. His voice was low, stripped of its usual academic warmth. The air in the chamber was thick with the scent of ozone and old paper, a smell that clung to the back of the throat like dust. The room was not a...
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