The Faded Frequency
October 14, 1347 My hands are trembling again, Julian, a fine, persistent vibration that begins in the fingertips and climbs the wrist like a cold current, and I am writing this by the light of a tallow candle that burns down unevenly, casting long, wavering shadows across the workbench where the bronze gears of the Great Bell lie scattered in disarray. I am forty years old, and the palsy that...
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