The Wistful Saga
The ink blots. That is the first sign. You watch the black pool spread across the parchment, a dark stain blooming like a bruise on the white skin of the paper. Your hand, the one that has signed three hundred warrants and executed two dozen men, trembles. It is a fine, high-frequency shake, a vibration that starts in the bone and ends in the tip of the quill. You are Elias, forty-two years...
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