The Distant Whispers
The brass caliper clamped Elias Thorne’s thumb, the metal cold and unyielding against the skin, measuring the precise curvature of the ancient bell’s rim. He held the instrument as if it were a surgical tool, his eyes fixed on the microscopic variance in the bronze, ignoring the damp chill that seeped through his wool coat and the way his lungs tightened with a familiar, arrhythmic spasm....
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