The Distant Promise
The candle flame in the scriptorium did not flicker; it stretched, a long, taut neck of orange light that seemed to strain against the heavy, damp air of the Abbey of St. Jude, casting the shadows of the oak shelves into long, distorted ribbons across the stone floor. Brother Elias, his hand trembling only slightly as he held the quill, stared at the parchment before him, the *Liber Vitae*’s...
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