The Golden Visit
The chisel bit into the limestone with a sound like a bone snapping. You pulled the tool free, shaking the dust from your sleeve, and looked up. The Abbot stood in the archway, his silhouette sharp against the unlit nave. He did not shout. He did not call for the guards. He simply watched you, his face a mask of stone, his eyes fixed on the fractured golden rose window above. You wiped your...
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