The Faded Chronicle

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2026-08-18 21:59:44 -

The rain did not fall. It hung. A grey curtain draped the world outside the chapel windows. I wiped the condensation from the glass. My breath fogged the pane. The scent of wet stone and old wax filled the air. I was the keeper of the bees here. Or so the ledger claimed. The abbey was old. Older than the kingdom. The walls wept. The floor was cold stone. My name is Elias. I am old. My hands...

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