The Distant Cartograph
The feast in the Great Hall of Oakhaven was a cacophony of roasted goose and stale ale, yet Elias Thorne sat apart, his fingers stained with the black ink of his labor. He was forty years old, an exile from the capital, driven by a debt that choked his family’s future and a map that refused to be finished. The Gray Rot, a supernatural blight that consumed paper and ink wherever human doubt...
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