The Golden Song
The bell tolls. It is a heavy sound, bronze and cold. You hear it through the walls of the cell, a rhythm that matches the beating of your own heart. You are not in a prison. You are in the bell tower of St. Jude’s, high above the gray stone streets of the city. You have been here for three days. You have not eaten. You have not slept. You are waiting for the rope to snap, or for the city below...
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