The Golden Crossing
The great hall of the Abbey of St. Jude’s hummed with a low, tectonic vibration that I felt not in my ears, but in the marrow of my bones, a resonance that seemed to rise from the very stones of the floor and travel upward through the soles of my boots, settling in my chest like a second, heavier heart. It was the Feast of the Transfiguration, or so the bells claimed, yet the air smelled of wet...
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