The Distant Promise
The glass cracked. Not shattered. Just a hairline fracture, thin as a spider’s web, running from the rim to the base. I held it up to the candlelight. The light bent through the flaw. It looked like a vein. My vein. Or perhaps the vein of the earth, exposed. It was midnight in the tower room. The air smelled of damp stone and old lavender. Below, the abbey slept, or pretended to. Above, the...
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