The Pale Verdict
The light in the workshop was the color of old brass, thick and still, hanging in the air like a held breath. I had been listening to the silence for an hour, trying to hear the tick, but there was only the low, resonant hum of the Great Bell in the tower, a sound that seemed to come from inside my own ribs. “You are late,” I said, though no one was there. The Guild Master, Mr. Aldous, did not...
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