The Distant Promise
The parchment lay flat on the stone table, its edges curling slightly from the damp air of the cellar. I traced the line of the contract with my thumb, the ink still wet, glistening like a wound that refused to close. It was a simple document, three lines of text in a cramped, angular script, binding me to the Abbot’s service until the manuscript was complete. The smell of the room hit me...
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