The Distant Crown
The boiler room was not a place one went to find comfort, nor was it a place where one expected to find the truth, yet there, in the subterranean belly of the St. Jude’s Orphanage, the air hung thick and heavy with the scent of wet coal, rusted iron, and the faint, cloying sweetness of burnt sugar that seemed to emanate from the very walls themselves. It was a smell that had seeped into the...
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