The Distant Promise
The bell in the tower does not ring. It hangs there, a heavy, iron tongue in a wooden mouth, silent for three centuries. You stand before it. The air in the crypt is thick, tasting of wet stone and old blood. Your friend, Elias, stands at the base of the ladder. His face is pale, lit by the single tallow candle he holds. He looks up at you, not with fear, but with a terrible, quiet certainty....
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