The Pale Verdict
The stone of the undercroft had not merely weathered; it had exhaled its very essence into the damp air over the course of three centuries, and in that slow, silent erosion, the walls seemed to breathe a rhythm that was not entirely their own, a pulse that I felt not in my heart but in the marrow of my bones, a vibration that connected my flesh to the ancient, grinding patience of the mortar...
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