"Worse," Jake said. "The Tower is shivering. It’s not just the beams anymore. Someone is ringing the bell at the top."
He stepped inside, and for the first time in a thousand years, the gunslinger felt the wind change direction. The Dark Tower
In the high, thin air of the Borderlands, the sky had turned the color of a bruised plum. The sun was a pale, flickering candle, guttering in a draft that blew from the gaps between universes. Roland knelt by a stream that ran with silver liquid—not water, but the liquefied memories of a city that had never existed. He didn't drink. He knew the price of drinking "Used Time." "He’s coming, Roland," a voice rasped. "Worse," Jake said
As he reached the foot of the Tower, the first toll of the bell shook the ground. The sound wasn't metal on metal; it was the sound of a billion voices screaming "Goodbye" at once. Someone is ringing the bell at the top
"The Man in Black?" Roland asked, his voice like grinding stones.