The Faded Shield
The bell of St. Jude’s Cathedral did not ring; it screamed, a jagged tear in the fabric of the afternoon that shattered the silence of the nave and sent pigeons erupting from the high windows in a cloud of frantic white. It was not the hour for the vespers, nor for the matins, but a time between, a liminal space where the light hung heavy and thick with dust, and the air tasted of old stone and...
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