The Distant Temple

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2026-08-22 16:11:20 -

The mortar was stone, cold and unyielding, and Elara’s knuckles were white as she pressed the pestle down with a force that seemed to draw the marrow from her bones, grinding the last of the cinnabar into a powder so fine it looked like rusted blood, a substance that burned her fingers and tasted of iron on her cracked lips as she worked by the guttering light of a single tallow candle in the...

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