The Golden Quest
The bell had been ringing for three days. It was a low, resonant toll, the kind that did not travel through the air but through the bone, vibrating in the marrow of the stone walls and the iron gates of the Citadel of Ashworth. It was a mechanical failure, the abbot claimed, a gear worn thin by centuries of use, a simple issue of friction and fatigue. But the sound was not empty. It carried...
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