The Wistful Show
The parchment lay on the oak table, its edges curled like dry leaves, bearing the King’s seal in red wax that had cracked along the grain. I read it twice, the ink bleeding slightly into the fiber, before I signed my name with a hand that trembled only at the wrist. The order was simple: complete the Great Chalice for the coronation. I am Elias Thorne, a glassblower of forty-two years, and I...
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