The Faded Ruin

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-22 13:40:21 -

The Faded Ruin

The ledger had three hundred and twelve pages, and I had written on one hundred and four. The ink was cold, a viscous black that smelled of iron and old blood, and it was not coming from the quill. It was coming from me. I looked down at my hands, resting on the parchment, and saw the veins darkening beneath the translucent skin, the fluid seeping out in fine, black threads that stained the...

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