The Golden Circuit
The ink was still wet, glistening like a fresh wound on the parchment, when Elias Thorne set down his quill and stared at the single word that had consumed his mind for three nights: *Penance*. It sat there, isolated, bold, and terrifyingly simple, a declaration of guilt that he had not yet fully articulated. Outside the high, arched windows of the scriptorium, the city of Oakhaven churned in...
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