The Wistful Crossroads
"The bell has not rung for three hours, Captain. Do you hear the silence? It is louder than the clanging." Thomas Bradshaw did not look up from the ledger. The ink was wet on the page, a black smear that bled into the fibers of the parchment like a bruise forming under skin. He was a man of the Order of the Iron Veil, a keeper of the Threshold, and he knew that silence was not an absence of...
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