The Wistful Skyline
The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a suspended grey veil that blurred the boundary between the leaded glass windows and the wet cobblestones of the courtyard, trapping Aldous Vane in a state of suspended animation within the high, vaulted library of St. Jude’s Abbey, where the air smelled of damp wool, ancient vellum, and the slow, inevitable decay of things that had once been kept in...
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