The Distant Temple

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-20 06:22:20 -

The rain fell on the city of Oakhaven like a burial shroud. It was a grey, wet Tuesday. The cobblestones slicked with mud. Thomas Ashworth walked. His boots were heavy. His sword was sheathed. The steel was dull. He had not sharpened it in weeks. The blade remembered blood. The city remembered smoke. Thomas was a warrior. He was also a son. These two truths sat in his chest. They did not agree....

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