The Pale Protocol
The ink is drying on the parchment, a dark stain that seems to drink the light from the chamber, and I am writing this not as a confession of guilt, which I do not possess, but as a record of the moment the silence became too loud to bear, for the sake of the man who will read this after my body is cold and the bells have rung the last toll of the evening. I hold the seal in my hand, the heavy...
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