The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-23 12:18:36 -

The ink is dry. It has been dry for three days, yet the quill still scratches against the vellum with a sound like a fingernail on a slate. I am Elias, forty-two years old, and I have served the Abbey of St. Jude for twenty of them. My hands shake. It is not the tremor of age, nor the palsy of a life spent hunched over parchment. It is a rot, a living thing that moves in the joints of my...

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