The Distant Journey

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2026-08-19 15:40:09 -

The ink bleeds. It always does. You press the quill harder into the parchment, trying to force the letters to stand straight, but the paper is wet with the humidity of the hall and the sweat of your palms. The symbol is a seal. It is a promise. It is a lie. You have been coming to the Ministry of Records for forty years. You are the Archivist. You are the keeper of the truth, or so the High...

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