The Distant Temple
The banquet hall is a cavern of white cloth and polished silver, the air thick with the scent of roasted pheasant and the metallic tang of spilled wine, a suffocating opulence that presses against your eardrums until the world outside the high, arched windows ceases to exist, and you sit at the far end of the long table, your hands trembling slightly as you hold a glass of amber liquid that...
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