The Wistful Show
The ink does not flow. You press the nib to the parchment, and the quill scratches, dry and hollow, against the fiber. You are Elias. You are thirty-two. You are the scribe of Lord Vane’s crumbling manor, and you are bleeding. The rule is simple, though it is not written in any law book, only in the marrow of the house. The chronicle is a seal. It binds the spirits that haunt the halls, the...
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