The Faded Apartment
Thomas. The name was not spoken so much as spat out, a sharp crack of authority that cut through the damp silence of the scriptorium. Brother Anselm stood over the boy’s shoulder, his hand resting heavily on the edge of the oak desk, the leather strap of his scapular creaking as he leaned in. The candle flame guttered, throwing long, erratic shadows across the parchment, and Thomas did not look...
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