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... that morning—shrill, ceremonial, and slightly off-key. Elias winced from across the cobbled town square as the tolling echoed through his head like a judgment.

"Why do all religious bells sound like someone dropped a tin pan down the stairs?" he muttered.

Rhea, beside him, was squinting at the distant church with the same expression she used when confronted by steamed vegetables. "I smell incense and hypocrisy," she said flatly.

"You're not wrong."

The town's moo ...

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