The Flame of the Forsaken
The bells of St. Jude’s Cathedral tolled with a heavy, oppressive rhythm that seemed to vibrate in the very stones of the city. In the shadow of the spire, in a cellar that smelled of damp earth and old parchment, Dr. Gabriel worked by the flickering light of a single tallow candle. He was a man of science in an age of superstition, a surgeon who had discovered that the boundaries between the...
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