The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-22 13:38:00 -

The varnish was still wet when the first drop of black ink seeped from the corner of the King’s eye. You wiped it away with a rag, but the stain returned, darker and more viscous than any pigment you had mixed. It was the night of the winter solstice, or so the court calendar promised, and the portrait of Henry IV hung in your studio like a wound that refused to close. You had spent forty years...

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