The Pale Path
The separation from the abbey’s infirmary was not a dismissal, but a sentencing, and I walked the pale, trodden path toward the village with the heavy, rhythmic thud of my own internal judgment accompanying every step. My hands, still stained with the ochre and ash of the mortar I had mixed for the new chapel’s foundation, hung at my sides like dead things, though the air was already thick with...
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