The Golden Song
The forty-two-year-old archivist Zoran Gevorgyan sat in the scriptorium of the crumbling monastery, his hands trembling as he held the quill over the final page of the Codex Aureus. The heat in the room was a physical weight, pressing against his chest like a wet wool blanket, making the air heavy with old vellum and the metallic tang of the ink. He had been working since the sun went down, the...
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