The Faded Root
The letter from the University Chancery lay on the desk, its seal broken, the ink of the rejection already dry and flaking like old skin. You read it twice, the words blurring into a single, gray smear, and then you turned back to the *Codex Umbra*, the parchment brittle as dried bone, the light from the single tallow candle guttering in the draft that crept under the door. It was the week...
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