The Faded Root
14th of the Month of Ashes I write this by the guttering light of a tallow stub, my hand trembling not from cold, but from the terrible weight of what I have done. I am Elias Thorne, a scribe of no rank, and I have stolen the Faded Root. It is a living stone, pale as bone and pulsing with a slow, rhythmic throb, and it is the only thing that can save my daughter, Lily, from the wasting plague...
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