The Distant Journey
The winter of 1347 presses against the leaded glass of the cathedral’s north transept, a cold so biting it seems to crystallize the very air, yet you stand on the highest scaffold, your breath pluming in white clouds that vanish before they can reach the stone. You are Thomas Ashworth, master mason, thirty-two years old, and your hands are steady even as your mind trembles with the echo of a...
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