The Faded Dust
The Great Hall of the Monastery of St. Jude was not merely a building; it was a mechanism of silence, a vast stone lung that inhaled the prayers of the faithful and exhaled only the cold, dry air of judgment. I stood in the nave, a shadow among shadows, watching the Feast of the Reconciliation. The air was thick with the scent of beeswax and old incense, a heavy, cloying perfume that seemed to...
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