The Faded Photograph

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2026-08-23 15:34:50 -

The stone floor of the cellar was cold enough to bite through the soles of my sandals. I had been searching for three days, my knees aching, my hands raw from digging through the dust of the abandoned undercroft. I was looking for the silver clasp. It had been my novice robe’s fastener, lost twenty years ago in the fire that took Thomas. I needed it. The Abbot’s eyes, sharp and unyielding, had...

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