The Faded Paradox
The seal was red. A perfect, unblemished circle of crimson ink stamped on the center of the parchment. It had been there for ten years. Elias had watched it dry. He had watched it crack slightly with the first winter frost. He had watched it survive the war that came next. It was still there. Unchanged. Eternal. Elias stood in the center of the Hall of Whispers. The room was vast and circular,...
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