The Wistful Petal
The ledger shows four hundred and twelve days of service, a sum that amounts to three pence a day, a wage that does not cover the cost of ink, let alone the silence required to keep the stone from weeping. You are Elara, thirty-two years old, a court architect in the year 1204, and your hands are stained not with dirt but with the black, viscous fluid that seeps from the walls of the Obsidian...
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