The Distant Joke

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2026-08-20 10:44:49 -

The Distant Joke

The sky broke open before the sun had fully risen. It did not thunder. It simply tore, a ragged hem of blackness stitched with lightning that smelled of ozone and old iron. You stood in the courtyard of the Abbey of Saint Jude, your hands wrapped around the hilt of the iron staff, your knuckles white. The staff was old. Its leather grip had worn smooth by the friction of your palms, the metal...

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