The Wistful Voyage
The seal breaks not with a snap but with a sigh, a long, wet exhalation of ancient air that smells of iron and dried lavender, and you are standing in the middle of the rotunda, your hands shaking so violently that you drop the chisel into the dust, where it clatters against the stone floor like a dying bird. You have come here, to the heart of the Citadel of St. Jude, to find the name that was...
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