The Pale Letter
The dream began with the taste of ash on the tongue, a dry, gritty powder that coated the teeth and settled deep in the throat, leaving a lingering bitterness that no amount of water could wash away. Warden Elias Thorne woke in his narrow cot within the stone dormitory of the Abbey of St. Jude, the heavy oak door of the infirmary sealed against the night. He was not alone in his confinement;...
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