The Faded Root
The ink on the parchment did not merely dry; it evaporated, leaving behind a ghostly outline of words that had once held the weight of a world. Elias sat in the high-backed chair of his study, a room that smelled of dust and dried lavender, his fingers tracing the fading lines of a document that was slowly disappearing into the paper itself. It was a deed, or perhaps a confession, or a love...
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