The Wistful Mirror
The candlelight in the scriptorium of Saint Jude’s does not merely illuminate; it interrogates. You are Elias, a scribe of forty-two years, your fingers stained with oak gall and iron sulfate, and you are trying to finish the *Gospel of Matthew* for Bishop Aldric by the winter solstice. The deadline is not a suggestion but a contract: complete the illuminated manuscript, and the pension that...
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