The Distant Temple

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2026-08-24 05:25:56 -

The brass gear sat cold and smooth in Elias Thorne’s palm, its teeth worn flat by decades of friction, a small metal wound that had not yet bled. It was the final piece of the escapement for the Great Bell, a mechanism that had not rung in forty years, and holding it felt like holding a stopper in a bottle of something dangerous. Outside the window of his workshop in Oakhaven, the rain lashed...

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