The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-21 17:47:20 -

The bell in the tower of St. Jude’s did not ring. It screamed. It was a sound like tearing metal, a shriek that split the morning air and shook the dust from the rafters of the scriptorium. Margery dropped her quill. The ink bled. It spread across the vellum in a dark, jagged vein, staining the word *grace* until it was barely legible. She did not look up. She knew the sound. Everyone in the...

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