The Faded River

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2026-08-20 12:41:45 -

The Faded River

The ink on my fingers was not merely black; it was the color of a bruise that refused to heal, a deep, arterial violet that bled into the pores of my skin no matter how fiercely I scrubbed with lye and ash. I sat in the high chamber of the Scriptorium, the air thick with the scent of iron-gall and old parchment, while the rain lashed against the narrow, leaded windows like a crowd of desperate...

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