The Distant Temple

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2026-08-23 15:37:57 -

The ink was still wet when the Master looked at him, a gaze that felt less like a question and more like a blade sliding between the ribs. Thomas did not speak, for his throat had closed up tight with the smell of oak gall and fear, and he knew that any sound he made would be a lie, and he was already drowning in them. He stood before the high desk, his hands trembling slightly as they rested...

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