The Distant Temple
The cart rattled over the cobblestones, a sound like teeth chattering in the cold. I held the jar tight against my chest. The glass was warm, humming with a low, electric vibration. It was a strange thing to carry into a place of such rigid, stone silence. The Abbey of St. Jude’s stood on the hill, its spires piercing the grey sky like needles trying to stitch the clouds back together. We were...
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