The Wistful Silence

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2026-08-19 00:24:24 -

The chain was heavy. It hung around his neck, a cold circle of iron links. It had been forged by the Guild, polished to a dull shine. It was the mark of his office. It was the mark of his sin. He stood in the courtyard of the Priory of St. Jude. The stones were wet. The mist clung to the walls like a shroud. He watched a crow land on the gargoyle. The bird tilted its head. It did not fly. The...

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