The Golden Song
The candle flame in the scriptorium did not flicker; it trembled, a thin, vertical shiver that matched the pulse in Brother Thomas’s wrist. He dipped his quill into the inkwell, the liquid black and viscous, and watched it catch the light with a faint, golden luminescence that seemed to emanate from within the glass rather than reflect it. The *Liber Aureus* lay open before him, its pages thick...
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