The Golden Quest
The bell did not ring. It was merely struck, a dull, wooden thud that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards of the scriptorium and settle in the marrow of Margot’s bones. She did not look up from her work. Her quill, steady as a surgeon’s blade, traced the final flourish of a capital ‘G’ in the vellum. The ink was fresh, black as a raven’s wing, and it smelled of iron and old blood. "You...
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