The Book With No Spine Left

Sit again, $N, and I will tell you what Palewharf actually is. Before the Book was bound, one section held every page of a story the author kept tearing out and rewriting, then tearing out again, never satisfied that any single version deserved to stay sewn to the others. By the time the Binders received it there was no spine left to bind, only a drift of loose, foxed leaves that would not sit in any order twice. They could not print a book with no spine, so they let the whole section go rather than force an order onto it the author never chose, and the Ink Tide scattered it here, leaf by leaf, each one its own small island now. The wraiths you have been putting down are what is left of the story's own restless drafts, $N, still wandering the margins looking for a version of themselves worth keeping. The Glossator read every leaf they could find and left their colophon at Wraithwatch, the one mark of authorship the whole scattered book still has.

Experience

21000

Currency reward

1g 62s 0c

Repeatable

No

Sigil

Ledger and ink