The Distant Promise
The bell in the clocktower of Ashwood did not chime so much as it exhaled, a long, shuddering sigh of iron that rolled down the soot-stained cobblestones and settled into the bones of the town like a damp, cold fog that no fire could ever quite burn away. It was the hour when the shadows stretched thin and elongated, twisting into shapes that defied the geometry of the day, and Elias Thorne...
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