The Distant Temple
The archive did not smell of dust, as one might expect of a place where centuries were buried, but of ozone and hot copper, a metallic tang that clung to the back of the throat like a bad penny. Julian Vane sat in the center of the circular chamber, the air around him humming with a low, subsonic vibration that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves, which were not made of stone or brick...
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