The Distant Temple
You hold the seal. It is a slab of black stone, cold as a grave. It is heavy. It is worn. The edges are soft, rounded by the friction of your own obsession. You have carried it for three years. Three years since the Council exiled you. Three years since you broke the code. The cell is small. It is white. The walls are smooth. There is no door you can see. There is only the window. A slit of...
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