The Wistful Throne
The count began at three hundred and twelve hours of continuous work, a figure I tracked not on a clock, but in the deepening ache of the tendons in my left wrist, the precise calibration of my quill nib against the vellum’s surface, and the diminishing angle of the afternoon light that slanted through the high, narrow windows of the scriptorium. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, and for...
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