The Distant Temple
The stone did not weep, nor did it sigh, but it held the weight of the world with a silence so profound it seemed to swallow the light before it could reach the flagstones. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the Great Hall, his back to the towering doors of oak and iron, his hands resting on the hilt of a sword that had not tasted blood in three decades. He was an old man now, his hair the...
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