The Golden Song
Chapter One The cold in the scriptorium was not merely a temperature; it was a physical weight that settled into the marrow of Fernand Perrin’s bones, a dampness that clung to the wool of his tunic and the parchment he held. He sat alone in the dim light of the Abbey of Saint-Germain, the only sound the scratch of his quill and the distant, rhythmic tolling of the night watch that nobody had...
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