The Wistful Skyline
The bell did not ring so much as it screamed, a jagged tear in the fabric of the morning that split the sky above the Citadel of Oakhaven in two. It was not the morning bell that summoned the guards to their posts, nor the noon chime that marked the meal, but a sound so raw and discordant that it seemed to originate not from the bronze throat of the tower but from the collective panic of the...
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