The Golden Crossing
The tower stood in the center of the village square, a sliver of dark stone that seemed to suck the light out of the sky. It was not a church, nor a castle, but a well-house, though it had long since forgotten how to hold water. The community of St. Jude’s had lived in the shadow of this structure for three generations, and like all things that outlive their utility, it had become a monster. I...
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