The Faded Alibi

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2026-08-23 01:39:34 -

The Faded Alibi

The candle flame trembles in the draft that slips beneath the oak door, casting long, erratic shadows across the vellum where your quill hovers, trembling with a fatigue that is not merely of the hand but of the soul. It is the fourteenth of November, 1347, and the air in the scriptorium of the Abbey of St. Jude tastes of tallow, damp stone, and the metallic tang of blood that you have...

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