The Wistful Campus
The rain did not fall so much as it besieged the heath, a grey and relentless curtain that turned the ancient stone of the Abbey ruins into a slick, treacherous mirror. Silas Vane stood at the precipice of the crumbling north tower, his boots sinking into the mud that had swallowed the foundations of the priory centuries before, and he felt the cold seep through the soles of his shoes into his...
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