The Distant Journey
The stone does not speak in words, but in a low, tectonic hum that vibrates through the soles of my feet and settles in the marrow of my bones, a frequency that I have spent twenty years learning to read as clearly as a physician reads a pulse. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, and for two decades I have lived in the shadow of the Bell Tower of Harrowgate, a structure of grey granite that...
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