The Pale Echo

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 15:16:53 -

The Pale Echo

The bell in the steeple did not ring. It hung there, a heavy tongue of bronze, silent against the grey sky of Oakhaven. It had been three days since the last toll. Three days since the silence took root in the village, thick as moss, choking the breath from the stones. Silas stood at the edge of the square. He was a man carved from the same oak that lined the streets, weathered and hard. His...

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