The Golden Echoes
The bell does not ring; it screams, a jagged shard of sound that tears through the silence of the high chapel and seizes your throat, leaving you gasping for air that tastes of dust and old blood. You are standing in the nave, where the flagstones are cold enough to bite through the soles of your boots, and around you the air is thick with the weight of centuries, a tangible substance that...
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