The Faded Masquerade
The parchment lay flat on the oak lectern, its surface scarred by the friction of Elias’s thumb, the ink of the sigil drying into a black scab that mirrored the hollows of his own cheekbones. He wanted the Codex Aeternum finished before the solstice, a task that required steady hands and a quiet mind, but the Abbot’s shadow stretched across the floor like a long, dark finger pointing directly...
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