The Golden Echoes
The ash fell not like snow, but like a judgment, heavy and grey and absolute, coating the cobblestones of the High Court in a layer of fine, powdery silence that swallowed the sound of the bells which had rung until their bronze tongues wore thin and broke. It was a winter that had forgotten how to end, a cold so profound it seemed to possess a will of its own, a malevolent spirit that gnawed...
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