The Wistful Throne
The leather strap cut into Elias Thorne’s palm as he tightened the buckle. The satchel was heavy, not with books, but with the weight of the only copy of the Whitmore Manuscript, a text so rare that its existence had cost him three years of unpaid labor and a reputation for obsessive secrecy. He rubbed his thumb over the surface. The hide was worn thin, translucent in places, revealing the dark...
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