The Golden Visit
The parchment lay on the stone slab, yellowed and brittle, the ink faded to the color of dried blood. Elias read the list of names, his finger tracing the final entry: *Lord Vane, Exiled, 1347*. He was a scribe, a man of ink and parchment, but tonight he was a thief of souls. The crypt of Lord Vane lay beneath the ruined chapel, a sealed space that smelled of wet limestone and the sweet,...
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