The Distant Wound
The cathedral of St. Jude the Restless stood not as a sanctuary of faith, but as a fortress of memory, its stone walls thick with the accumulated silence of centuries and the heavy, suffocating weight of the new regime’s absolute power. Elias Thorne stood at the threshold of the west door, his hand resting on the iron ring of the gate, feeling the cold metal bite into his palm, a sharp,...
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