The Wistful Silence
The parchment lay flat on the oak desk, its surface pristine and blindingly white under the amber glow of the tallow candle, and Elias stared at the single, wet drop of black that had appeared in the center of the page, a tiny pool of darkness that did not reflect the flame but seemed to swallow it. He had sealed the inkwell hours ago, the wax crisp and unbroken, yet here was the stain,...
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