The Wistful Show
The wax seal is broken, Elias. Do you see it? Kael stood in the doorway of the archive, his shadow stretching long and thin across the dusty floorboards. He held the parchment in both hands, his knuckles white, the paper trembling slightly as if it were a living thing about to flee. The room smelled of damp wool and old ink, a scent that had settled into the pores of Elias’s skin over twenty...
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