The Distant Summer
The chandelier in the Great Hall of St. Jude’s Academy did not sway, for the air was too still, too thick with the scent of beeswax and old paper to permit any such movement, yet to Elias Thorne, standing at the periphery of the gathering, the crystal prisms seemed to vibrate with a low, subsonic hum that resonated in the hollows of his teeth and the deep, aching pit of his stomach, a frequency...
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