The Faded Root
The pen tip hovered, trembling, above the line where the final signature was due. Elara watched the black ink bead up, refusing to sink into the paper, forming a grotesque, swollen drop that threatened to fall. It was a small thing, a minor inconvenience, the kind of humidity that plagued the old district, but her hand had begun to shake in a way that defied the chill in the room. She was...
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