The Distant Affair
The crack in your thumb was the size of a dry riverbed, and it split as you pressed the quill to the vellum, sending a thin line of black ink bleeding into the parchment of your own skin. You were forty-two years old, Elias Thorne, senior archivist at St. Jude’s, and you had three months left until the final audit, a deadline that loomed over the scriptorium like a guillotine blade. The *Codex...
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