Here is the refined version of your short essay on Tartu Cathedral, with the title, links, and bold formatting removed as requested:

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Rising above Toome Hill, the ruins of Tartu Cathedral are more than a relic—they’re a layered story etched in red brick and memory. Built between the 13th and early 16th centuries, it remains Estonia’s only medieval church with twin towers, originally rising to 66 m before warfare reduced them to the current 22 m height.

When Protestant iconoclasts stormed the building in 1525, they destroyed statues and altars, turning cathedrals into ruins. Russian troops during the Livonian War continued the destruction, and a 1624 fire under Swedish rule sealed its fate.

Yet the site found new life centuries later. After the University of Tartu reopened in 1802, architect Johann Wilhelm Krause rebuilt the cathedral’s choir between 1804 and 1807 to house the university library. One imagined creating an observatory in the towers—but instead, by the late 19th century, the northern tower was pressed into service as a water tank to supply nearby buildings.

By 1981 the library had moved, and the choir became the University of Tartu Museum, displaying scientific instruments, rare books, and the city’s academic heritage. Meanwhile, the ruins themselves were stabilized and preserved as a monumental open-air space, now a striking example of Gothic architecture in Old Livonia.

Archaeological discoveries beneath the nave include a 15th-century vicar’s grave slab—marked with an inscription—and a 40–50-year-old male skeleton found near the choir, both visible today in the museum foyer.

From May to September, visitors can climb both towers for panoramic views over Tartu, while after sunset the cathedral’s arches are animated by nightly light installations—merging Nordic folklore, 19th-century mythology, and modern design.

The cathedral hill was once part of Tartu’s medieval fortification. Toome Hill held a pagan Estonian fortress before the 1224 crusades. In the late 17th century, Swedish rulers added bastions and underground posterns—vaulted passages—that still exist today, silent witnesses to centuries of transformation beneath the cathedral grounds.

Once a spiritual center, later a library, then a museum—and always a ruin—it holds medieval tombs nearby, candlelit atmospheres, theatrical lightscapes, and city festivals within its nave. It’s a place where Tartu’s story twists and unfolds, as timeless as its stone.