The Pale Meridian
The parchment is heavy, heavier than the vellum usually used for psalters, and it smells of iron and dried blood, a scent that has begun to define the monastery of St. Jude in the summer of 1348. You hold it with trembling hands, the ink still wet and glistening, a pale, silvery line that seems to pulse against the skin of the paper, and you read the words Elara wrote before she was taken from...
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