The Faded Attic
The crimson thread hung in the loom’s shadow like a wound that refused to close, a single, faded strand of royal scarlet caught between the warp and weft of the unfinished tapestry, and Elias, his hands raw and bleeding from the tension of the reeds, knew with a certainty that felt like a physical blow that this was the same thread his father had woven into the King’s banner twenty years prior,...
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