The Distant Temple
The mud of the contested valley was not merely wet; it was a living, sucking thing that had taken hold of Elias Thorne’s boots with a tenacity that felt personal. At forty-two, Elias was a border warden of the Crown’s extended jurisdiction, a man whose body had long since ceased to be his own property and had become a tool of the state, a tool now rusting in the rain. He stood in the center of...
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