The Wistful Voyage
The glass bell shatters against the cobblestones of the Market Square, a sound like a scream trapped in ice, and you stand there, the shards scattering into the dust, while the silence that follows is heavier than the stone towers surrounding you. You are Thomas, a boy of twelve winters, and in your hand, you still hold the empty wooden frame from which the bell was suspended, the wood...
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