The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-23 22:32:06 -

The Faded Bouquet

The ink in the well was black, but the shadow on the wall was bleeding. Elias Thorne stared at the stain, a dark smear spreading across the parchment of his own guilt. He was a scribe, a man of forty years who had spent two decades copying psalms to pay for his brother’s silence. The ledger was gone. It was stolen, and the debt remained. The Abbot held the key to the vault, and the Abbot held...

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