The Golden Quest
The stone of the Chapel of Saint Jude was not merely cold; it was a living, breathing thing that sucked the warmth from my skin with the patience of a glacier. I sat in the shadow of the nave, my back pressed against the rough-hewn pillar that held up the weight of centuries, and watched the dust motes dance in the single beam of light that pierced the high window. It was a world apart from the...
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