The Distant Temple
The decree arrived on a Tuesday, stamped with the red wax of the Guild, ordering the incineration of the Temple Robe by Friday’s dusk. You stood in the archive, the wool of the garment heavy on your shoulders, its threads humming a low, mournful frequency that vibrated in your teeth. The fog outside Oren was thick, a grey curtain that swallowed the spires, but inside, the air was dry and tasted...
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