The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-22 19:27:51 -

The Wistful Petal

The ink was wet. It had been wet for three days. Brother Elias stared at the vellum, the quill trembling in his hand. The final page of the *Book of Hours* should have been dry by morning. It was not. It glistened, a dark, viscous pool spreading from the center of the page like a bruise forming under skin. He dipped the quill again. The ink refused to flow. It sat heavy in the well, thick as...

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