The Ghosts of Circle Eight
Rain fell on the broken stones of St. Mark's Abbey as it had for three hundred years—not with purpose, but with the indifferent persistence of something that has forgotten why it continues. Thomas Marlowe stood in the nave and watched water accumulate in the hollows of the flagstones. He was thirteen when Father Anselm found him wandering the moor, barefoot and shaking, with nothing but a torn...
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