The Distant Temple
The sky tore open. Not with lightning. No thunder. Just a silent, vertical tear in the grey fabric of the afternoon, revealing a blinding, white void behind it. It hung over the city of Oakhaven, a wound that did not bleed. Elara watched from the window of the attic. She was twenty-two. Her hands were trembling. They were always trembling. The cold in the room was a living thing, biting at her...
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