The Distant Temple

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2026-08-22 22:35:32 -

The parchment was heavy, its edges worn soft by the Abbot’s thumb, and it smelled of dried sage and the sharp, metallic tang of fear. Elias held it out, his knuckles white, the chisel marks still fresh under his fingernails. "Read it," he said, his voice rough from the dust of the quarry. "It states that Thomas is to be released, provided I complete the spire by the feast of St. Michael." The...

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