The Pale Letter
The fire began not with a spark, but with a sigh, a sudden exhalation of heat that warped the air above the heavy oak table in the center of the Grand Chamber. It consumed the ledger first, the paper curling into black scrolls that smelled of burnt sugar and old ink, and then it reached for the glass cases where the rarest tinctures were kept, shattering the brittle vessels and releasing clouds...
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