The Faded Bouquet
Thorne, you are late. The voice of Mr. Vane, the Archivist of Oakhaven, cut through the damp chill of the cathedral nave with the precision of a steel file against a rusted gear, and Elias felt the temperature in his chest drop several degrees as the crowd of onlookers, bundled in wool and heavy coats, shifted their weight away from him with a collective, physical recoil that felt less like...
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