The Pale Protocol
The candle burns low, its wick smoking a thin, grey ribbon into the cold air of the scriptorium, and I write these words not for the court, nor for the King’s magistrates who have sealed my fate in a ledger of black ink, but for the silence that has already begun to gather around me, a silence that is not empty but heavy with the weight of what I have done and what I have become. You must...
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