The Pale Altar
The parchment lay on the oak desk, its surface stiff with the weight of the ink that had been applied to it three hours prior. Elias read the final clause of the contract, the one that bound his pension to the completion of the *Codex Luminis*, and he felt the cold dampness of the paper seep into the calluses of his fingers. It was a document of simple arithmetic: forty years of service, one...
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