The Distant Metropolis
The first thing you notice is the sound, a low thrumming that starts in the molars and travels down the jaw, settling deep in the chest cavity like a stone dropped into a well. You count the seconds between the pulses of the Great Bell, one, two, three, four, a rhythm that has governed the life of Oakhaven for two hundred years, yet today it feels different, sharper, a vibration that seems to...
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