The Distant Temple

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2026-08-22 18:29:47 -

The debt was three hundred silver marks, a weight that sat on my chest heavier than the oak desk. I counted the coins in my purse, then counted them again, my fingers slick with sweat and the faint, metallic tang of dried blood. Three hundred for the coffin, for the priest, for the dirt. I had no father to inherit from, no brother to lean on. There was only the Abbey, and the Ink. The Ink was a...

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