The Distant Nightmare
The frost had taken the glass of the chapel window three days before the winter solstice, turning the saints into jagged, white shards that caught the low, gray light of the afternoon. Elias sat in the corner, his knees drawn up to his chest, the cold seeping through the wool of his trousers and settling into the bones of his shins. He was a man of few words, but his eyes were heavy with the...
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