The Distant Temple
The temple had been waiting for him longer than he had been alive. Arthur Pembroke stood at the edge of the Cornish cliff-path, the wind tearing at his coat as if it, too, wanted to pull him into the grey Atlantic. Below him, the sea gnawed at the base of the cliff with patient teeth. And beyond the headland—hidden by a fold in the coastline that no modern map had ever bothered to...
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