The Faded Bouquet
The candlelight did not so much illuminate the scriptorium as it suffocated it, trapping the dust motes in a slow, golden suspension that felt less like light and more like a physical weight pressing against the lungs of the man who sat at the head of the long oak table. Erasmus Vane, Keeper of the Archives at the Abbey of St. Jude’s, had not slept in three days, nor had he eaten, for his body...
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