The Faded Portrait

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 07:33:55 -

The ink was dying. It was a slow, insidious death, more akin to the rotting of fruit in a warm cellar than the clean break of a snapped quill, spreading across the vellum in a creeping tide of grayish-brown that erased the letters before my eyes could track them. I am Thomas, a scribe of modest standing in the walled town of Oakhaven, and in the autumn of 1348, my life hung by the thin thread...

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