The Distant Temple
The ledger showed forty-three days since the last execution, and Elias Thorne counted the stitches in his left hand as he sharpened his quill, the thread of scar tissue pulling tight across the knuckles with a dull, familiar ache. He was an inquisitor of the valley of Oren, a man whose duty was to listen to the stones, for it was the uncanny rule of this place that the granite beneath the...
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