The Wistful Asylum

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2026-08-22 21:10:24 -

The chisel bit deep into the limestone, the sound a dull, rhythmic thud that echoed up the unfinished shaft of the spire. Elias Thorne wiped the blood from his palm onto his leather apron, the metal handle slick and cold in his grip. Below him, the town of Oakhaven lay in a haze of grey smoke and silence, the year 1348 pressing down with the weight of the plague. He was forty years old, and his...

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