The Golden Quest
The candle flickered in the draft, casting long, trembling shadows against the stone walls of the scriptorium, and Aldric’s quill hovered over the vellum, trembling not from the cold but from the sheer weight of the ink he was about to commit. It was a dark, viscous black, distilled from oak galls and iron, a substance that smelled of rust and decay. He did not look up at Brother Thomas, who...
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