The Distant Journey
The quill scraped against the vellum, a dry, rasping sound that cut through the silence of the scriptorium, and Elias Thorne’s hand trembled not from cold, but from the sudden, blinding heat that had consumed the shelf three feet to his left. The manuscript for the Feast of St. Jude, the only copy of the foundational text that the Abbot had demanded for the visiting dignitaries, lay in a heap...
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