The Golden Crossing
The bell in the steeple of St. Jude’s did not ring so much as it screamed, a jagged tear in the silence of the valley that had settled over the village of Oakhaven like a heavy, wet shroud. It was the Hour of Waking, the ancient time when the boundary between the living and the forgotten grew thin, and for Elara, it meant the end of her quiet, rotting existence. She sat on the edge of her bed,...
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