The Distant Temple
The iron seal on the door of the Keep had not been broken for a century, yet when the frost shattered it that morning, the sound was not of metal yielding to force, but of a bone snapping under a heavy hand. The seal, a complex interlacing of thorns and serpents, crumbled into a fine red dust that settled on the stone floor like blood. Thomas Bradshaw stood before the opening, his breath...
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