The Wistful Cipher
The quill snapped against the parchment with a sound like a bone breaking, and Elias Thorne did not flinch. He was thirty years old, a scribe from the dying town of Wells, and he had fled the bubonic plague by trading his skill for shelter in the abbey of St. Jude, a place the locals whispered was haunted by a wraith that devoured liars. The Abbot, Brother Malachi, stood behind him, his shadow...
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