The Wistful Mirror
The bell in the tower of St. Jude’s University rang not with the clear, silver peal that summoned students to chapel, but with a dull, heavy thud, like a fist striking a bruised rib. It was the sound of the Council in session, a sound that had not been heard in forty years, a sound that meant judgment. In the cramped office on the third floor, where the dust motes danced in the slanting...
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