The Distant Clue
The ledger lay open on the desk, its pages swollen with the damp that always clung to the stone walls of the Archive, a heavy, wet breath that seemed to seep from the mortar itself and settle into the fibers of the paper, turning the ink into a sludge of black tears that wept down the margins where the numbers had once been sharp and bright as diamonds cut from the night. I held the quill, the...
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