The Golden Quest
The brass nib of my pen was cold against my thumb, a small, hard thing that held the weight of the evening’s silence, as I watched the ink spread across the page of the ledger, a dark pool that refused to dry in the drafty air of the archive. It was October 14th, 1892, and the hall was still humming with the residual heat of the retirement feast for Mr. Aldous, my mentor, whose chair now stood...
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