The Golden Quest
The bell of St. Jude’s did not ring; it screamed. It was a jagged, iron-throated shriek that tore through the grey morning fog, shattering the silence of the valley. You stood in the center of the square, your hands steady, your breath shallow, as the crowd surged around you like a black tide. They were not angry. Anger implies a reason, a grievance that can be argued against. They were afraid....
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