The Faded Frequency
The ink had not yet dried on the final seal, a crimson drop of wax that looked less like a stamp of authority and more like a clot of blood pressed into the parchment, when Eleanor realized that the hand holding the quiver was trembling, a fine, high-pitched vibration that traveled from her fingertips up through the bones of her wrist and settled, heavy and cold, in the center of her chest, a...
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