The Wistful Cipher
The bell tower collapsed at noon. It fell without sound. That was the first wrong thing. Stone that heavy, breaking through the roof of the old cathedral, should have screamed. It should have shattered the air into jagged shards of noise. But it simply dropped. A gray slab of silence hit the nave floor. Dust rose like a slow, brown tide. Thomas stood on the scaffolding. He was a structural...
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