The Wistful Asylum
The air in the Great Hall of St. Jude’s Asylum for the Unquiet Mind does not merely hang; it sags, heavy with the scent of boiled wool, damp plaster, and the metallic tang of fear that has seeped into the very stones over the last three centuries, and you stand in the center of this suffocating embrace, holding the silver chalice that has been passed from hand to trembling hand since the time...
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