The Wistful Crossroads
The bell tower of the Monastery of Saint Jude did not ring at noon, but it screamed, a jagged tear in the fabric of the afternoon silence that pulled the entire order of the Black Capes from their slumber of prayer and paperwork into a state of terrified, frantic alertness. Brother Julian, who held the rank of Inquisitor of Minor Heresies, felt the vibration in his teeth before he heard the...
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