The Golden Quest
The ink was black, the candlelight was yellow, and Elara’s hands were shaking so badly that the quill skittered across the vellum like a dying insect. Brother Thomas stood in the doorway of the scriptorium, his shadow stretching long and thin across the floorboards, blocking the only exit. He did not speak. He simply watched her work, his face a mask of cold, aristocratic indifference, as if...
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