The Distant Legend
The ink will not dry, Elias. Do you understand? It will not dry." Chancellor Aldric’s voice was low, a dry rasp like sand on stone, and he did not look up from the ledger. He sat behind the heavy oak desk in the scriptorium, the afternoon light failing to reach him, leaving him in a pool of shadow that seemed to seep from the floorboards. Elias stood by the window, where the wind from the...
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