The Distant Temple
The rain did not fall so much as it was expelled from the sky, a grey, relentless spit that turned the King’s Highway into a slurry of mud and broken promises. I stood beneath the eaves of a collapsed tollbooth, my armor heavy with water, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts that fogged and vanished in the chill. My name is Thomas, and until this morning, I was the Crown’s most celebrated...
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