The Wistful Campus
The iron gate of St. Jude’s Academy groaned as it swung shut behind you, sealing in the last of the October light. You are still wearing the uniform of the Crown, the wool heavy and damp against your shoulders, the rank insignia on your lapel a small, cold star that feels less like honor and more like a brand. You are not a student here. You are a ghost with a pension. The headmaster, a man...
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