The Golden Downtown
"Did you hear the tower singing again last night?" The question hung in the air, thick and cloying, smelling of damp wool and the stale, metallic tang of old fear. You stood in the shadow of the archway, your fingers white-knuckled around the brass handle of your lantern, though the flame within it had long since guttered out, leaving only a cold, black eye of glass. The speaker, a young man...
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