The Wistful Skyline

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2026-08-22 19:20:40 -

The parchment lay on the oak table, its edges curled and brittle as dried leaves, the ink still wet and black as a bruise. I stared at the figures, the columns of grain and silver that did not add up, the lie I had helped construct with my own trembling hand. Brother Elias sat across from me, his face illuminated by the single tallow candle that flickered in the draft, his eyes fixed not on the...

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