The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-25 00:29:14 -

The inkwell was nearly empty, a black drop of oil floating on the surface of the water. Elara counted the hours. Fourteen since the sun had set. Fourteen hours of copying the Duke’s decrees onto the heavy, cream-colored parchment. Her fingers were numb, the cold seeping through the thin wool of her sleeves. She dipped the quill, the feather stiff and dry, and dragged it across the page. The...

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