The Pale Protocol
The letter lay on the oak table. It was thin. The paper was cream. It smelled of dust and dried rosemary. Thomas picked it up. His hands trembled. He did not want to read it. He knew what it said. He had known for three years. He was a monk. He lived in a stone abbey. The walls were cold. The air was thin. He walked the cloister. The stones were worn smooth. He wore a brown robe. It was rough....
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