The Wistful Saga
The rain tapped a steady, dull rhythm against the high windows of the study, a sound that had become the metronome for Elias Thorne’s last three years of work. He sat at the heavy oak desk, the wood cold and slick under his palms, counting the pages of the ledger one by one, his fingers stained with the faint, rust-colored ink of Julian’s handwriting. There were four hundred and twelve pages in...
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