The Distant Ghost
The frost had eaten the edges of the chapel windows until the glass was a lacework of white, and inside, Brother Elias stood alone in the nave, his breath rising in thin, grey plumes that dissipated before they could reach the vaulted ceiling. It was the hour of Vespers, the time when the light through the eastern rose window turned the dust motes into a slow, golden suspension, but Elias saw...
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