The Distant Temple
The iron gate of the manor groans against the rusted hinges, a sound like a bone snapping under the weight of a boot. You are running. The mud of the courtyard slicks your boots, pulling at your heels as you leap over a broken palisade, the air cold and sharp with the scent of wet stone and impending rain. Behind you, the torches of the Royal Inquisition flicker in the draft, their light...
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