The Faded Road
The bell above the oak door did not ring so much as it groaned, a low, tectonic shudder that seemed to vibrate through the soles of the heavy boots worn by the candidates in the hall. It was a sound that spoke of age and weight, of wood that had long since ceased to be merely material and had become something closer to memory. In the center of the room, surrounded by rows of empty, high-backed...
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