The Wistful Letter
The candle gutters in the draft, casting long, trembling shadows that seem to detach themselves from the walls of the scriptorium. I am Brother Elias, once a soldier of the King’s guard, now a monk of the Abbey of St. Jude, and I am writing this to the dead because the living have failed me. The reliquary of Saint Elmo, stolen from our crypt by Lord Ashworth, is the only thing that can save us...
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