The Distant Temple

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 09:53:54 -

The dream began with the smell of ozone and wet wool. Marcus stood in the courtyard of the Ministry. The flag snapped. It was a Tuesday. He knew it was a Tuesday because the clock above the gate struck nine, and the sound was heavy, like a stone dropped into a deep well. He looked at his hands. They were clean. The skin was pale. The nails were trimmed short. He remembered the training manual....

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