The Distant Temple
The banquet hall was a cavern of heat and gold, a place where the air itself seemed to vibrate with the low, thrumming hum of power and the sharp, metallic tang of ambition, and in the center of this swirling vortex stood Silas Vane, a man whose posture was as rigid and unyielding as the steel of the rifle he had not yet drawn, yet which hung heavy as a phantom weight against his hip, his eyes...
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