The Distant Summer
Elias. The name was spoken by Brother Thomas with a weight that felt less like a summons and more like a toll being collected. The old librarian stood in the archway of the scriptorium, his shadow stretching long and thin across the flagstones as the afternoon light slanted through the high, narrow windows. Elias did not look up from his work immediately. He was hunched over the parchment, the...
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