The Distant Ghost
The iron gate of the Abbey of St. Jude groaned against the stone as I closed it behind me, sealing away the cold, damp air of the crypt where I had spent the last three years mapping the veins of earth and stone that held the bones of the dead. I stood on the threshold, my hands still stained with the grey dust of the foundation stones, and looked out upon the valley below, where the mist clung...
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