The Distant Summer
The morning light did not break over the horizon so much as it seeped, a pale and viscous fluid, through the high, narrow windows of the stone sanctuary, pooling on the cold flagstones in shapes that resembled the eyes of ancient, sleeping beasts. Elara stood at the center of the circular room, her fingers trembling not from the biting chill of the early autumn air that had begun to infiltrate...
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