The Wistful Saga
The ink in the well was black as a bruise, and my left hand trembled as I held the quill, waiting for the command that would never come. I am Elias, thirty-two, a scribe in the high tower of the Iron Keep, and I want to copy the final page of the King’s confession before the ink dries. For three years I have served in this cold stone room, copying ledgers and treaties, but tonight the air...
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