The Distant Temple

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2026-08-22 03:49:15 -

The air tasted of copper. And ozone. And the specific, metallic tang of fear that sits in the back of the throat. I sat in the chair. The chair was steel. The chair was cold. I was a man. I was a soldier. Or so the documents said. The documents were wrong. The documents are always wrong. They are paper. Paper burns. Paper lies. I was something else. I was a frequency. A signal. A ghost in the...

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