The Distant Promise

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2026-08-21 23:08:54 -

The ink was running out, and with it, my last shred of dignity. I sat in the scriptorium of the Abbey of St. Jude, the candlelight guttering against the damp stone walls, my quill hovering over the parchment like a bird about to strike. I was thirty-two years old, a scribe of no particular talent but endless anxiety, and I had only one purpose left in this world: to secure the release of my...

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