The Pale Meridian

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2026-08-22 09:03:58 -

The Pale Meridian

The scriptorium smelled of oak gall and dried lavender, a scent that had seeped into Elias’s pores over twenty years of service. He sat at his desk, the quill trembling in his hand as he stared at the empty space on the shelf where the *Book of Whispers* had rested. His sister Mara was dying in the infirmary below, her skin blackening at the fingertips, a slow rot that no physician could name...

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