The Wistful Silence
The train to Oakhaven smelled of wet wool and coal smoke, a scent that clung to the lining of Elara’s coat as she tightened her grip on the leather satchel at her side. Inside the satchel, wrapped in oilcloth, lay the Whispering Ledger, a bound volume of vellum that had haunted the archives for three centuries and now, since her appointment as Head Archivist, had taken up residence in her own...
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