The Wistful Petal
The ink was wet. That was the first thing I noticed, the second being that my hand was shaking so violently the quill scratched a line of white noise across the parchment. I am Elias, forty-two, a junior archivist in the Ministry of Eternal Records, and I was sitting in the Director’s office, the room smelling of dust and old varnish, while Director Vane watched me with a smile that did not...
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