The Distant Temple
The mortar will not set, Elias. It crumbles like dry bone in your hands, refusing to bind the limestone to the granite. You stare at the gap in the foundation, the wet grey sludge oozing out in a sickly, slow drip. Thomas, your apprentice, stands three paces back, his face pale beneath the dust, watching the collapse with the wide, terrified eyes of a boy who has just learned that the world is...
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