The Distant Summer

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2026-08-19 22:31:42 -

The iron gate groaned shut, a sound like a bone snapping in the dark. Wren stood in the courtyard, the cold air biting at his cheeks. He wore the grey wool of a sinner, the fabric rough against his skin, a constant reminder of the dirt he had carried for so long. The sky above the Abbey of Saint Jude was a bruised purple, heavy with the promise of rain that never came. He looked up at the...

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