The Distant Temple
The house in the valley did not stand so much as it leaned, a great architectural apology to the sky, its timber frame groaning with a humidity that seemed to seep up from the roots of the earth and into the marrow of the walls. Elias Thorne sat in the study, a room that smelled of old paper and the faint, metallic tang of ozone, and he watched the dust motes dance in the single beam of...
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