The Distant Ghost
The bell did not ring; it screamed. It was a sound that tore the sky open above the city of Aethelgard, a jagged shriek of bronze and rage that turned the cobblestones to dust and the air to blood. The Great Spire, that needle of white stone piercing the heavens for three hundred years, collapsed. It did not fall so much as it dissolved, crumbling into a cloud of grey powder that swallowed the...
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