The Faded Frontier

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2026-08-24 15:52:03 -

The gold leaf was gone, Thomas said, his voice flat and dry as the parchment he had been scraping for three hours. The Abbot did not look up from his ledger. The smell of the scriptorium was a thick, cloying mixture of lampblack, damp wool, and the sweet, rotting scent of the Wasting that had begun to creep up Thomas’s left wrist. It was a smell like old meat left in the sun, a scent that clung...

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