The Distant Temple
The bell did not ring; it screamed, a jagged tear in the silence of the industrial morning that left Elara Vance with a taste of copper and iron in her mouth. She stood on the precipice of the Grand Hall, the air thick with the scent of ozone and old dust, her hand trembling against the cold brass of the railing. Below, the machinery of the Ministry of Order churned and groaned, a beast of...
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