The Distant Temple
The bell did not ring. It screamed. A shriek of iron tearing through the air, a sound that had no beginning and no end, only a sustained, agonizing vibration that lived in the teeth and the marrow. Thomas Bradshaw stood in the center of the chapel floor, his hands raised, not in prayer, but in the desperate gesture of a man trying to hold back a tide with bare fingers. The stone walls were...
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