The Wistful Campus
The great hall of St. Jude’s Academy for the Orphaned and Destitute was not a place of learning, but a cavern of stone and shadow where the air hung thick with the scent of boiled cabbage, wet wool, and the distinct, metallic tang of old fear, and it was here, in the center of the long oak table that stretched like a spine across the room, that Thomas Bradshaw sat with his hands folded so...
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