The Pale Verdict
The bell of St. Jude’s rang out, not with the clear, bright note we had known since childhood, but with a dull, thrumming ache, like a bruise being pressed by a heavy thumb. I stood on the cobblestones of the village square, watching the dust settle around the hooves of the horses that had carried the news, and I felt the cold seep into my bones, a cold that had nothing to do with the autumn...
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