The Wistful Show
The fire began not with a spark, but with a silence that swallowed the sound of the wind. It started in the east wing of the Abbey of St. Jude, where the stone had grown warm to the touch in a way that defied the chill of the November night, and then the oak beams groaned, twisting like living things in agony before they split with a thunderous crack that shook the dust from the vaulted...
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