The Distant Temple

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2026-08-23 04:24:00 -

The train north smelled of wet wool and rust, a scent that seemed to settle into the pores of my skin as we rattled over the iron bridges spanning the frozen valley. I was forty-two years old, a senior auditor for the Ministry of Internal Records, and I was traveling to the Northern Archives to secure my pension before the wasting sickness took Clara, a task that felt less like a professional...

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