The Faded Attic
The great hall of the Inquisition in the city of Vienne was not merely a room but a throat, a vast, vaulted space where the air hung heavy with the scent of damp stone and old, dried blood. It was the feast of St. Michael, and the torches burned with a fierce, unwavering light that cast long, jagged shadows across the flagstones, illuminating the gathered dignitaries who sat in rows of oak...
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