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In the Maker's Light: Collected Ficlets

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He stopped, just inside the doors, caught for a moment in the light that streamed in from the windows high above. His mother would have loved this place, he found himself thinking, remembering how religiously she'd attended whatever chantry they were closest to in their travels.

He could only hate it; hate it, and everything it stood for to him. But for a moment, he saw the beauty of this place as his mother would have seen it, and was unexpectedly moved by what the hands of men had wrought.