The Golden Echoes
The bell above the door does not ring. It has not rung in three days, not since the last carriage left the mud-churned lane outside, taking with it the last of the world’s noise and leaving only the heavy, suffocating silence of the Hall. You stand in the center of the Great Hall, your hands resting on the cold iron of the gate, the metal biting into your palms with a precision that feels...
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