The Distant Clue
The ink had not yet dried on the ledger of the year’s final audit when the bell above the door of the Guildhall tolled a single, mournful note that seemed to shatter the brittle silence of the archive, and in that same fractured moment, the great oak door, which had not been opened by human hands for three days, swung inward with a creak that sounded less like wood protesting against its hinges...
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