The Wistful Campus
The stone of the college had been there before her, and it would be there after she was dust, yet in that particular autumn when the maple leaves turned the color of old rust and the air tasted of wet wool and impending snow, the building felt less like a structure of mortar and lime and more like a living thing that breathed through the cracks in its walls. Elara Vane did not see a university;...
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