The Distant Temple
The bell does not ring. It screams. A high, thin shriek that pierces the fog and finds the hollow of your throat. You are awake. You are not. The dream is still there, tangled in the sheets, smelling of wet stone and old iron. You reach for the rope. It is not there. You are in the cell. The walls breathe. They are damp. The mortar is cracked. You know this crack. You have traced it with your...
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