The Distant Promise
The quill had scratched out exactly four hundred and twelve lines of the chronicle since the morning bell, a count Brother Elias kept in his mind with the grim precision of a man tallying coins in a ledger that balanced to zero. His right hand, once steady enough to copy the Psalms without a single blot, now trembled with a rhythmic, mechanical spasm that turned the ink into a jagged, black...
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