The Distant Whispers
"You’re going to lose your mind, Elias. I can hear it in the way you breathe." I looked up from the ledger, the ink still wet on the page for the heating oil. Brother Thomas stood in the doorway of the scriptorium, his hands clasped so tightly the knuckles were white. The air in the room was thick, not with dust, but with that low, persistent thrum that had been growing in the walls for three...
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