The Faded Guest

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2026-08-17 22:28:56 -

The Faded Guest

The iron gate of the Abbey of St. Jude groaned against the frost as I forced it open, the sound a low, mournful rasp that echoed across the frozen yard. It was not a sound of welcome, but of warning. I stood there, a boy of twelve winters, clad in the coarse wool of a novice, my hands trembling not from the biting cold but from the weight of the stone key hanging at my belt. The sky above the...

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