The Distant Affair
Elias, you’re late again. The voice came from the doorway, low and gravelly, belonging to Julian, who stood with his arms crossed over a chest that seemed to shrink as he watched you. You did not turn immediately. You were watching the ink on the page of the Blackwood Codex, a deep, arterial black that pooled in the hollows of the vellum like rainwater in a ditch. The smell of the workshop hit...
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