The Faded Root
Chapter One Immacolata Caruso had already lost the light in the archive, but the root in her hand still hummed with a cold, damp weight that felt like a second pulse against her palm. She stood before the High Magistrate, a man whose face was carved from the same grey stone as the walls, and waited for him to speak. The air smelled of wet earth and old paper, a scent that clung to the throat....
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