The Faded Dust
The ink was not merely pigment suspended in water, but a living, breathing entity that seeped into the pores of the parchment with a slow, deliberate hunger, spreading its dark tendrils across the whitex surface in patterns that mirrored the intricate, terrifying geometry of the soul, and Elara watched this expansion with a stillness that was not peace but a high-wire tension, her fingers...
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