The Distant Journey
The candle flame in the scriptorium of the Abbey of St. Jude did not flicker; it trembled, a fine, high-frequency vibration that matched the low, subsonic hum rising from the stone floor beneath Brother Thomas’s feet. He sat hunched over the lectern, his quill poised above the vellum, the ink dry and black in the well, his hands shaking with a violence that had nothing to do with the chill of...
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