The Wistful Mountain
The bell tower of St. Jude’s stood not as a monument to faith, but as a cage of iron and stone, its windows barred against the wind that howled across the moors. It was a place of silence, a void carved out of the living world, where time did not pass but pooled, thick and stagnant, like the rainwater collected in the gutters of the upper gallery. Elias Thorne had lived in this suspended...
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