The Distant Temple
The ledger had counted four hundred and twelve days since Elara’s arrest, a number Alaric had etched into the back of his hand with a needle, the ink now a faded, rust-colored scar that itched whenever the damp air of the dungeon settled against his skin. He stood before the High Magistrate, a man whose flesh seemed to ripple with a slow, subterranean current, as if the water table of the earth...
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