The Wistful Dinner
The parchment was cold, a slab of bleached skin waiting to be filled. I signed the contract for the transcription of Duke Aldric’s testament, my hand trembling not from fear but from the sheer weight of the inkwell before me. It was not black, but a deep, arterial red, distilled from the Duke’s own veins during his final hours. I was Elias, a scribe of no particular talent, and I wanted only...
0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 1 Views 0 önizleme