The Distant Ghost
The parchment lay open on the stone table, its edges curling like dead leaves, and the boy, Thomas, stared at the ink that had begun to bleed into the fiber of the paper, a dark, spreading bruise that seemed to pulse with a life of its own, for he had been holding the seal for three days without sleep, without water, and the cold of the cellar had seeped into his bones until the marrow ached,...
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