The Distant Whispers
Thorne, stop that. The voice came from the shadows of the crypt, not loud, but with the weight of iron settling into wet clay, and Elias did not turn, for he knew the shape of the man who spoke it, and he knew, with a cold certainty that settled in his marrow like frost in a windowpane, that the seal on the Whispering Bell had already broken, that the air in the cellar was no longer the stale,...
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