The Faded Attic
The first shard of the Lumen Aeternum bit into the fleshy pad of my thumb, a cold, jagged thing no larger than a barley grain, yet it carried the weight of a cathedral bell. I held it up to the single tallow candle in the scriptorium, watching the light fracture into a sickly, greenish prism that seemed to pulse in time with the throbbing in my own head. The air in the room was thick with the...
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