The Wistful Voyage

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2026-08-23 06:44:48 -

The letter lay on the desk, the parchment still warm from the hearth, and I read it three times before I picked up the quill. It was from the Abbot, the ink dry and crisp, ordering me to begin the transcription of the Book of Mirrors. My hands, which had been steady enough to shave a goat or split a nail, were trembling so badly that the first letter I wrote looked less like a script and more...

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