The Golden Echoes
The golden chime does not ring so much as it bites, a sharp, metallic tooth sinking into the base of your skull every time the second hand of the great clock in the tower sweeps past the twelve, a sound that has grown louder in the last three nights until it vibrates in the fillings of your teeth and hums in the marrow of your shinbones. You are Elias Thorne, the Royal Archivist, and you are...
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