The Wistful Skyline
The candle in Elias Thorne’s study flickered, casting long, trembling shadows against the walls lined with leather-bound ledgers. He sat hunched over his desk, the parchment before him blank, his fingers stained with the deep, bruised blue of the Ink of Memory. For twenty years, Elias had served the Guild of Archivists, a rigid order that claimed to preserve the truth of the realm, yet which...
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