The Pale Shadows
The air in the Great Hall of St. Jude’s Academy did not smell of ink or old paper, as one might expect in a place dedicated to the preservation of knowledge, but rather of damp stone, roasted chestnuts, and the faint, sweet rot of apples left too long in the baskets by the window. It was a feast for the eyes and the stomach, a display of abundance that felt almost obscene given the gray, leaden...
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