The Distant Legend
The bell did not ring. It hummed. A low, vibrating thrum that rose from the floorboards of the Archive and settled into the marrow of Elias Thorne’s bones. He sat at his desk. The wood was cold. The air was still. Outside, the city of Oakhaven slept, but inside, the machinery of the state breathed. Elias was old. His hands trembled slightly when he reached for the inkwell. The ink was black....
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