The Wistful Campus

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2026-08-17 11:06:49 -

The clock tower of St. Jude’s Hall did not tick. It breathed. A slow, wet inhalation that seemed to pull the air out of the room, followed by a shuddering exhalation that sent dust motes dancing in the slant of afternoon light. Silas Vane stood at the base of the spiral staircase, his fingers tracing the grain of the oak banister, feeling the wood weep a sap that smelled of iron and old blood....

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