The Wistful Campus
The mortar cracked not with a sound, but with a silence that swallowed the morning. You stood in the center of the square, your hands dusted with the grey powder of the world, and watched the great stone table shatter. It was a table of marble, veined with gold, where the Elders of the Hollow sat to judge the worth of a soul. It had held the bread of the living and the wine of the dead for...
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