The Distant Journey
The bell cracked. It did not ring. It shattered. One moment, the great bronze tongue hung in the tower, silent as a held breath. The next, a hairline fracture spidered down its side. Then a roar. Not sound. A physical blow. The air tasted of copper and old dust. I stood in the crypt. I am old now. My hands shake. They always shake when I think of that day. But that day, my hands were steady. My...
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