The Golden Song
The bell rang at dawn. It was not a cheerful sound. It was a metallic groan that scraped against the eardrums, a vibration that settled in the marrow. Elias Thorne stood by the window of the archive room. The glass was cold. He pressed his forehead against it. Outside, the university campus lay in a gray mist. The old oak trees looked like skeletal hands reaching for a sky that had forgotten...
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