The Golden Crossing
The ink in your well has begun to shimmer, a thick, molten gold that refuses to settle, and you, Elias, thirty-four years of your life bound to the vellum and the quill, watch it with the cold, calculating eye of a man who believes that discipline is the only answer to disorder. You are a scribe in the high tower of the Abbey of Saint Jude, a man of modest means and immense pride, and your...
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