The Distant Temple

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 00:28:02 -

The hall smelled of wet wool and stale yeast. Margaret stood by the long oak table, her hands resting on the cold wood. The room was full. Everyone was there. The air hummed with a low, electric buzz. It was the annual review for the Department of Antiquities. A feast of bureaucracy. A banquet of paper. Margaret was fifty. Her hair was gray at the temples. She smoothed the fabric of her skirt....

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