The Wistful Throne
The feast in the refectory of the Abbey of Saint Jude was a grotesque parody of joy, the tallow candles sputtering in the draft while the brothers ate their thin pottage with the desperate, hushed fervor of men who believed the end was already written in the soot of the hearth. Brother Thomas sat at the far end of the long oak table, his eyes fixed not on the food but on the heavy stone door...
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