The Pale Path
Elias. The name was spat from the throat of the High Archivist like a stone thrown into deep water, and it struck the desk with a force that made the quill jump, splattering black ink across the parchment in a jagged, ugly star. You flinched, your hand trembling so violently that the nib caught the fiber of the paper, tearing a thin white line through the surface, and you watched the tear...
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