The Distant Temple
The bell tower stands against the sky, a square of pale stone that has not changed in three hundred years, and you stand at its base, your hand resting on the cold iron railing of the gate, feeling the vibration of the morning chime through your palm and into the bone. It is a heavy sound, a physical thing that settles in the chest, and you know, with the dull certainty of a man who has spent...
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