The Faded Root
The bag weighed exactly four pounds, twelve ounces. You checked the scale three times, the needle trembling like a wire under tension, because the weight was the only thing that felt real. Inside were your notes, your coffee, and the *Codex Umbra*, bound in leather that felt warm against your palm, almost alive. You left Mara without a word, standing by the door while she packed her suitcase,...
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