The Wistful Witness

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-25 08:56:07 -

The quill sat heavy in my right hand, its nib stained black with an ink that smelled of iron and old rain. I am Elias, a scribe of forty years, and I have spent the last decade in the scriptorium of the Abbey of St. Jude, my spine curved like a question mark over parchment. The air in the room is cold, a damp chill that settles in the joints, but my hands are warm, burning with a need that has...

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