The Distant Ghost
The air in the infirmary of St. Jude’s Priory smelled of wet wool, dried lavender, and the faint, copper tang of old blood, a scent that had seeped into the very stones of the medieval walls until it became indistinguishable from the damp itself, a heavy, pervasive miasma that clung to the skin of anyone who lingered in the shadows of the stone corridors where the only light came from the high,...
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