The Pale Shadows
The road to the Abbey of Saint Jude was not a straight line but a winding, muddy scar cut into the side of the valley, and it was there, in the damp chill of a November morning that smelled of rotting leaves and wet stone, that Professor Elias Thorne began his final descent into the institution that had claimed his life, his mind, and eventually, his sense of self. He walked with the heavy,...
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