The Distant Temple
The fire did not roar; it whispered, a dry, papery hiss that swallowed the sound of the world outside. Inspector Elias Thorne stood in the center of the charred remains of the town hall, his boots sinking into ash that smelled of burnt oak and old ledgers. The sky above Millhaven was the color of a bruise, swollen and purple, pressing down on the smoking debris with a heavy, silent weight....
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