The Wistful Silence
The bell rang not with a sound but with a pressure in the bones, a deep, resonant hum that settled into the marrow of the stone walls. Inside the high, vaulted chamber of the Abbey of St. Jude’s, the air was thick with the scent of damp wool, stale incense, and the metallic tang of old blood. It was a place where the outside world did not exist; the world was a rumor whispered by the wind...
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