The Golden Echoes
The wind outside the stone walls of the abbey did not howl so much as it breathed, a long, rhythmic exhalation that seemed to carry the weight of centuries against the glass, a sound that Elias had learned to distinguish from the silence within, though in the beginning, the two had been indistinguishable, a blurring of the boundary between the living and the dead, the present and the myth that...
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