The Golden Visit
The quill trembled in Elias’s hand, the nib hovering over the parchment like a spider poised on a web of silk. The year was 1348, and the air in the scriptorium of the Abbey of St. Jude tasted of dust, beeswax, and the metallic tang of fear. Elias was twenty, a scribe of no particular renown, but the task before him was not one of mere transcription; it was a wager against death itself. On the...
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