The Golden Mirror
The boy’s name was Elias, and he was found crouching in the cellar of the scriptorium, the air thick with the smell of damp stone and old ink, his fingers trembling around a tarnished oval of gold-framed glass. He had been searching for a missing quill, a goose-feather nib worth three coppers, lost in the dark tangle of parchment scraps and dried glue. It was not the quill he found, but the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews