The Wistful Dinner
The ink is black, but it tastes of iron when you mix it with your own blood. You are Elias, a scribe of the third rank in the city of Oram, and your hands are shaking so violently that the quill scratches a deep, ragged furrow into the parchment. The High Inquisitor, a man named Aldous who wears his authority like a heavy wool cloak, has forbidden the transcription of the Book of Breath. He...
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