The Distant Promise
The dust tasted of iron and old bone. Elias Thorne pulled his fingers from the rubble, the nails cracked and black, and looked at the cornerstone. It sat in the center of the collapsed crypt of St. Jude’s, a block of grey granite the size of a man’s torso. It was the only thing left that mattered. The roof had caved in three days ago, taking the pews and the altar with it, but the foundation...
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