The Golden Echoes
The parchment weighed exactly three ounces and four grains, a weight that felt less like paper and more like a stone wrapped in linen, and you counted the days since Julian’s death in the same rhythmic, grinding fashion you counted the drops of ink, twelve years of silence accumulating in the dry throat of the Order of the Silver Quill until the air itself seemed to clog with the dust of unsaid...
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