The Golden Crossing
The smell of sulfur and old wax hung heavy in the infirmary, a cloying scent that clung to the back of Brother Thomas’s throat as he adjusted the linen bandage around Elias’s wrist. Thomas’s hands, roughened by decades of agricultural labor and the calluses of a former soldier’s grip, moved with a precision that belied the trembling of his spirit, smoothing the coarse fabric over skin that had...
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