The Distant Temple
The road to the Abbey of Saint Jude was not a road but a wound in the earth, a scar of packed mud and broken stone that snaked up the hillside into the mist. Thomas Bradshaw walked it with the heavy, rhythmic tread of a man whose legs had forgotten how to bend. He was not alone. Beside him walked Elias, a young scribe with ink-stained fingers and eyes that moved too quickly, searching for a...
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