The Distant Temple
The air in the manor library was thick with the scent of damp wool, beeswax, and the slow, sweet rot of old paper, a atmosphere that had settled over the Whitmore estate for three centuries like a shroud that refused to be lifted, and it was here, in this vaulted chamber where the windows were sealed with heavy velvet and the only light came from the sputtering tallow candles that cast long,...
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