The Distant Temple
The air in the cathedral of St. Jude’s was thick with the scent of beeswax and the damp, mossy breath of the stone, a heavy perfume that seemed to coat the lungs of every soul gathered in the nave. We were there for the feast, a ritual of such antiquity that it had outlasted the kings who commissioned it and the wars that had razed the villages surrounding the city, yet it persisted with the...
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