The Pale Shadows
The silence in the scriptorium was not empty; it was heavy, a physical weight that pressed against Elias Thorne’s eardrums like deep water. "You have the inventory sheets?" Father Grieve asked, not looking up from the ledger he was balancing. His voice was dry, like the sound of old parchment being torn. Elias nodded, adjusting the satchel strap that bit into his shoulder. "I do, Father. And...
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