The Pale Door
The rain had not ceased for three days, a persistent, gray sheet that turned the cobblestones of the capital into a slick, treacherous mirror reflecting the soot-stained facades of the university where I had spent my entire adult life deciphering the margins of dead men’s books. I stood at the threshold of my study, the air thick with the scent of damp wool and old parchment, and watched Mara...
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