The Wistful Grid
The ink is black. The candle burns low. You hold the pen. Your hand is steady. You are not afraid. You are the keeper of the word. You are the wise one. They call you the Scribe. You know the truth. You have always known the truth. But you are afraid to write it down. The room is small. Stone walls. Cold air. The window is barred. It is night. The world outside is dark. The world inside is...
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