The Distant Promise
The bell in the tower of Blackwood Hall did not ring for the dead, but for the fever. It was a bronze tongue, heavy and rusted, clashing against the iron frame with a sound like a bone snapping. It had rung for three days, a relentless, metallic screaming that shook the dust from the rafters and settled into the lungs of every soul within the stone walls. The air in the Great Hall tasted of...
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