The Golden Master
The candle flame in the scriptorium did not flicker; it held a steady, golden gaze upon the parchment, mirroring the unblinking eyes of Elias, the master illuminator. He was forty years old, though the lines around his mouth and the hollows beneath his cheekbones suggested a man who had lived through several decades of quiet erosion. In the year of our Lord 1348, the air in the monastery...
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