The Distant Legend
The bell tolls. You count the rings. One. Two. Three. Four. The iron voice shakes the dust from the rafters. You are in the scriptorium. The air is thick. It smells of oak gall and old fear. Your hand trembles. The quill scratches. The sound is sharp. It cuts the silence. You are Elias. You are the scholar. You are the keeper of words. You are sick. The cough comes. It is a beast in your chest....
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