The Wistful Asylum
The feast was a cacophony of clattering cutlery and raucous laughter that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of your bones, a chaotic symphony of survival in the hollowed-out shell of the old cathedral, where the stained glass had long since been smashed and the pews stripped for firewood, leaving only the cold stone floor to bear the weight of the weary travelers who had fled the burning fields...
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