The Distant Affair
The dream was always the same, a recurring fever of wet, black whispers that rose from the parchment before Brother Thomas could fully open his eyes in the cold, stone-walled scriptorium of St. Aldhelm’s Abbey. He woke with the taste of iron in his mouth, the ink of his dead son’s voice still clinging to the back of his throat, a child’s breathless plea that the dark was hungry, that it needed...
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