The Wistful Campus
The bell did not ring. It tolled. A low, bronze vibration that seemed to rise from the earth itself, shaking the dust from the high vaulted ceilings of the Chapel of St. Jude. Elara pressed her forehead against the cold stone of the pew. She was alone. The others had gone to the refectory, their feet a distant, rhythmic thud on the cobblestones outside. But Elara remained. She remained because...
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