The Pale Banner
The chisel bit into the limestone with a sound like a tooth cracking, and I did not pause to wipe the grey dust from my brow, for the solstice was three days away and the great rose window of St. Jude’s still lacked its final petal. My name is Elias, and I have been master mason at this abbey for twenty years, a duration that feels both like a lifetime and a single, unbroken breath, yet I am...
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