The Distant Temple
The ink on the letter was still wet, a dark, viscous smear that bled into the cheap rag paper as Elias Thorne pressed his left thumb against the seal, the skin of his hand trembling with a phantom itch that the cold air of the valley could not quite soothe. He stood in the yard of the magistrate’s house, the iron gate clanking in the wind, and watched the fog roll down from the Blackwood hills...
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