The Wistful Atlas
The feast begins not with the breaking of bread, but with the shattering of the silence that has held the Guild Hall of St. Jude for three hundred years, a silence so thick and viscous it could be carved into planks and laid down as flooring for the dead, and you stand at the center of this sudden, violent eruption of noise and light, your hands trembling not from the cold that seeps through...
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