The Pale Tower
The bell of St. Jude’s College did not ring to mark the hour; it tolled only when the mortar between the stones began to crack. I remember the sound with a clarity that has since become a physical weight in my chest, a low, thrumming vibration that seemed to originate not from the tower itself, but from the marrow of my own bones. It was the autumn of my second year in the archives, a time when...
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