The Wistful Asylum
The dampness in the infirmary of the Abbey of St. Jude was not merely a condition of the air but a living thing, a thick, rotting presence that clung to the stone walls and seeped into the marrow of anyone who lingered too long in the shadows. Brother Elias stood by the bedside of Abbot Thomas, his hands trembling not from fear but from the sheer, crushing weight of the pain that radiated from...
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