The Pale Path
The quill trembles in your hand, a slender black stick that feels less like a tool and more like a bone you have stolen from a grave. You are Elias, and you are forty years old, a scribe in the scriptorium of Saint Jude’s, tasked with the final page of the *Liber Vitae*, the book of life that the Abbot demands be completed by vespers. The air in the room is thick, stale with the scent of oak...
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