The Golden Myth
The scent of damp rot and old parchment clings to your lungs, a heavy, metallic taste that you have come to associate with the basement archives of the St. Jude’s Theological Institute. You are not a scholar here, nor a monk, though you wear the rough-spun grey wool of the novices. You are a penitent, a prisoner of your own making, confined to the sub-levels where the air is still and the time...
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