The Distant Temple

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2026-08-22 22:35:45 -

The brass bell sat in Elias Thorne’s palm, cold and dull, its surface marred by a greenish oxidation that no amount of rubbing could abrade. He had held it for an hour, the microfiber cloth in his other hand worn thin, trying to coax back the luster that had defined his mentor’s office, now a ghost in the firm’s history. The bell was a gift from Arthur, given twelve years ago, a heavy, solid...

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