The Faded Shield
The bell did not ring to summon us, as it had for the last forty years of my waking life, but rather it screamed, a high, tearing shriek that sounded less like bronze and more like the snapping of a dry branch in a winter wind, and in that instant the sky above the valley of St. Jude’s cracked open not with light but with a bruised, purple darkness that swallowed the sun and turned the snow on...
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