The Faded Alibi
The fire starts at the bell. You watch it rise. The tower of St. Jude’s, ancient and proud, gutters. The stone glows. The heat hits your face. It is a physical blow. You stand in the square. The town sleeps. The smoke is thick. It tastes of ash and old wood. You know what is inside. The archive. The library. The truth. You are the keeper. You are the scholar. You are the fool. The flames lick...
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