The Faded Paradox
The cough came first, a wet, rattling sound that tore through the silence of the cottage at dawn. Thomas Bradshaw, twelve years old and bent over his scribe’s desk, watched his wife Elara struggle for air. She was only sixteen, but the wasting sickness had hollowed her cheeks into dark pits. He had spent his youth copying texts for the monastery, believing in the power of the written word to...
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