The Faded Apartment
The ink on the vellum was still wet, glistening with a dark, viscous sheen that seemed to absorb the dim light of the scriptorium, and Elara pressed the quill into the parchment with a steadiness that belied the trembling of her hands, as she traced the final stroke of the word "silence" in the margin of the chronicle, knowing that this act of transcription was not merely a preservation of...
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