The Faded Masquerade
The bells did not ring. They hung silent, heavy as lead, in the tower above the keep. The wind pushed against the stone. It pushed, and pushed, but the metal did not swing. It did not sound. This was wrong. In the old days, the bells told the time. Now they told only of the hush. Silas stood by the window. He looked down at the courtyard. The flagstones were wet. Rain had come and gone, leaving...
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