The Faded Dust
The bell tower stood hollow against the grey sky. Inside, the wind moved through the stone like a breath held too long. Thomas stood in the center of the floor. He was a man carved from the same stone as the walls. His face was old. His hands were old. The leather of his gauntlets was cracked and stiff. He had been the Keeper of the Bell for forty years. Forty years of dust. Forty years of...
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