The Pale Dance

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2026-08-18 02:24:37 -

The Pale Dance

The bell tower shook. Dust rained from the rafters, settling on my shoulders like ash. I held the hammer. My hands trembled, not from fear, but from the weight of the iron. It was heavy. It was old. It had hung there for three hundred years. I swung. The sound was not a ring. It was a scream. It tore through the air and into my bones. Margaret stood in the nave below. She did not look up. She...

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