The Distant Temple
The letter was thick, cream-colored, and smelled faintly of lavender and old paper. Elias Thorne held it in his left hand, his right gripping the stem of a wine glass that had cost more than his weekly wage. He read the final line again, the ink sharp against the parchment. The Grand Temple’s centennial banquet was in full swing. Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, refracting the...
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