The Golden Downtown
The bell in the tower of Saint Jude’s did not ring; it choked. It was a dry, rattling sound, like a throat filled with gravel, and it pulled your eyes upward to the cracked stone spire that pierced the grey sky of Oakhaven. You stood on the cobblestones, your hands resting on the hilt of your sword, a blade that had served you faithfully for twenty years, yet today it felt heavy as a coffin...
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