The Pale Bonsai
The ledger is empty, Elias, and you know what that means. Dr. Aris did not look up from his microscope, the brass rim catching the gaslight in a dull, sickly glint that seemed to bleed into the white dust motes dancing in the air. I stood there, holding the book of hours, my hands trembling not from cold but from the sudden, violent realization that the ink was gone. Not smudged, not faded, but...
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