The Distant Ghost

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2026-08-20 10:10:16 -

The Distant Ghost

The morning mist clung to the stone walls of the Abbey like a shroud of wet wool, and I stood at the threshold of the scriptorium, my hands trembling not from the chill of the November dawn but from the terrible, humming weight of the ink that stained my fingers, a dark residue that felt less like pigment and more like the dried blood of a creature I had never known until this very moment. I...

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