The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-23 09:57:51 -

The Faded Bouquet

The quill held three drops of ink before the first stroke. Elias counted them. One for the fever, two for the fading, three for the silence that was taking his wife, Margaret. He was a scribe, not a physician, but the *Liber Mortis* demanded a hand that understood the geometry of death. The Abbot, Father Thorne, watched from the shadows of the scriptorium, his silhouette a jagged cut against...

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