The Distant Crown
The bell in the town square did not ring. It was silent. Elias knew the silence. It was the kind of silence that followed a storm, or a funeral. He stood on the cobblestones, his hands trembling in the pockets of his threadbare coat. The air smelled of wet wool and old stone. He was a scholar of antiquities, a man who had spent his life cataloging the dead. He knew the weight of things. He knew...
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