The Pale Exile
The paper was damp at the edges, the ink of the seal a dull, dried brown that flaked under Elias’s thumb. It was a receipt, technically, for the purchase of three reams of archival paper, two sticks of sealing wax, and a bottle of iron gall ink that had turned to sludge in the bottle. He held it up to the light from the single, grimy window of the repository, the paper trembling in a hand that...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 3 Views 0 Anteprima