The Faded Root
The ledger lay open on the desk, its spine cracked and brittle as a dry twig. You turned the page, the sound a dry rasp in the silent room. The entry for your brother, Thomas, was dated ten years ago. Next to his name, in Silas’s cramped hand, was a single word: *Consumed*. You traced the ink with a finger that trembled, not from cold, but from the heavy, rhythmic thumping of your own heart...
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