The Distant Temple
The cage was not made of iron, but of silence, and it sat in the center of the Grand Hall like a tumor that had learned to breathe. I held the bird. It was not a bird, not anymore. It was a mechanism of brass and wire, a clockwork sparrow that had once chirped in the garden of the Lord Chancellor, but now it only ticked. A dry, rhythmic click that sounded like a heartbeat slowed to the tempo of...
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