The Wistful Letter
The collapse of the tower did not happen with a roar, but with a sigh, a long, shuddering exhalation of dust that rose like a ghost from the foundations and settled upon the shoulders of Elias Thorne, a man who had spent the last thirty years believing that stone was the only thing in the world that could be trusted to hold its shape. He stood in the nave of the cathedral, the air thick with...
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