The Pale Tale
The glass bell hung in the center of the Great Hall, suspended from the vaulted ceiling by a chain of black iron links. It was not a bell in the way one might think of a church bell, with its bronze throat and heavy voice. It was a vessel, a sphere of pale, translucent crystal, no larger than a man’s head, and it did not ring. It hummed. A low, vibratory thrum that settled in the teeth and the...
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