The Faded Alibi
The iron gate screamed against the frost, a sound like a man tearing his own throat open, and I felt the vibration of that shriek in the marrow of my bones before I even saw the courtyard, a place where the snow lay thick and untouched, white as the bones of the saints they had buried in the crypts below, and I stood there in the middle of the night, the cold biting into my cheeks, my hands...
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