The Distant Temple
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the clay road outside the Blackwood estate into a slurry of brown mud that sucked at the boots of anyone foolish enough to walk it. Inside the kitchen, the air was thick with the smell of damp wool and the sharp, metallic tang of fear. Thomas, a boy of twelve with hands that had already learned the rough work of the fields, sat on a stool by the...
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