The Distant Temple
The feast in the Great Hall of St. Jude’s Academy was not a celebration of joy, but of endurance, a long, slow grinding of gears in the machinery of tradition that I had spent thirty years maintaining. The air was thick with the scent of roasted pheasant and old beeswax, mingling with the damp, earthy smell of the stone walls that had witnessed countless such gatherings since the days when the...
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