The Wistful Incense
The bell of St. Jude’s did not ring so much as it screamed, a jagged shard of sound that tore through the thick, humid air of the medieval town square. The people scattered like startled pigeons, their roughspun tunics flapping in the sudden chaos. They pointed not at the sky, but at the tower, where the bronze lip had cracked down the center, spilling a molten tongue of metal that hissed as it...
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