The Faded Chronicle

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2026-08-19 05:27:22 -

The rain had stopped, but the air in the Hall of Records remained damp and heavy, smelling of wet wool and old paper. Thomas stood by the window, watching the grey light bleed across the courtyard. He was twelve years old, small for his age, with hands that trembled slightly as he held the ledger. It was a thick, leather-bound book, its spine cracked like dry earth. Inside, the entries were not...

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