The Distant Temple
The first crack appeared in the morning light, a hairline fracture in the left clavicle. It was not pain, exactly, but a shifting of weight, as if the bone had grown tired of holding the sky. I noticed it while lacing my boots, the leather stiff with the cold of the cellar where I kept them. My name is Elara, though the register at the Hall of Records listed me as E. Vane, Archivist Third...
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