The Distant Crown
The bell did not ring; it screamed, a jagged tear in the fabric of the morning that tore open the sky above the monastery of St. Jude’s and revealed not the sun, but a void so absolute it seemed to drink the light from the stone walls, leaving us in a twilight that was not night but a suspended, breathing shadow. I stood there, my hands trembling not from the cold, which was biting enough to...
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