The Distant Temple
The Ministry called it steadfastness. I called it the rot in my left hand. It was a gray, necrotic thing that started at the knuckles and moved toward the wrist, a slow erosion that the damp air of the borderlands seemed to accelerate. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, and I have served the border for twenty years. My duty was simple: maintain the perimeter, report anomalies, and ensure...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews