The Wistful Saga
The burin bites into the copper plate with a sound like a fingernail scraping against a chalkboard, a dry, resisting friction that travels up your wrist and settles in the elbow. You are Elias Thorne, and you are forty-five years old, and the commission for Archduke Ferdinand’s new seal is due in three days, yet your hand is a traitor, trembling with a fine, rhythmic shudder that no amount of...
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