The Distant Whispers
The bell tower stood in the center of the courtyard like a silent judge, its stone face weathered by centuries of indifferent rain. Elias Vane had not slept in three days. His mind, a cluttered library where the shelves had collapsed into a heap of dusty folios, refused to rest. He walked the perimeter of the quadrangle, his steps soft against the cobblestones, his breath misting in the chill...
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