The Distant Promise

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2026-08-21 10:04:55 -

The air in the community hall of St. Jude’s Parish was thick with the scent of damp wool and stale rosewater, a heavy, cloying perfume that seemed to cling to the back of the throat. It was the annual Harvest Vigil, a tradition so old it had outlived the parish itself, sustained only by the rigid machinery of the Church’s bureaucracy. Margaret Holloway stood by the sideboard, her fingers...

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