The Distant Temple

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-20 00:15:28 -

The iron gate was cold. It was always cold. I pressed my palm against the rusted bar, feeling the grit of the park’s decay seep into the skin. My name is Arthur, and I was twelve years old, though in the Hall of Records, they had listed me as a minor asset, Class B. The fog rolled in from the river, thick and white, swallowing the cobblestones one by one. I stood alone. The silence was heavy....

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