The Distant Temple
The iron gate did not creak. That was the first wrongness, the first whisper that something had been stripped away from the world. It simply swung open, silent as a held breath, revealing the path that wound into the grey mist of the highlands. Elias Thorne stood before it, his hands trembling not from the cold, though the air bit at his cheeks like a razor, but from the sheer, crushing weight...
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