The Pale Garden
The letter was heavy, the paper thick with the weight of centuries, and the ink had dried to a color like old rust. Elias Thorne held it under the guttering candle, his thumb pressing the seal to keep the wax from cracking. It was a bill of lading, but for something that did not exist in any ledger he knew. *Payment due: One life, or the restoration of the Glass. Lord Vane expects the artisan...
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