The Pale Tower
The bell of St. Jude’s Academy did not ring so much as it screamed, a high, thin shriek that tore through the autumn air and settled, heavy and cold, in the marrow of the children who stood in the quad. It was a sound that had no melody, only a warning, and beneath it, the rhythmic thudding of boots on cobblestone echoed from the chapel doors. The boys, dressed in their severe grey wool...
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