The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-24 08:16:11 -

The rain had been falling for three days, turning the mud of the Abbey courtyard into a slurry that sucked at Elias’s boots with every step. He stood before the heavy oak doors of the scriptorium, his fingers trembling not from the cold, but from the knowledge that he was about to ask for something that had been denied to him for forty years. Elias was a scribe of the Order of Saint Jude, a man...

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