The Distant Clue
The ink was already on my fingers before I realized I was bleeding. I sat across from Silas in the High Court’s archive, the air thick with the scent of old vellum and iron. He was dying, his hands blackened to the elbow, the skin tight and shiny like cured leather. I wanted the testament. I wanted to save him. These were the only two things that mattered in the room, and they were in...
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