The Distant Temple

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2026-08-24 08:38:01 -

The mortar crumbled under Brother Thomas’s thumb, a gritty paste that smelled of wet earth and old blood, as he scraped the damp from the stone wall of the infirmary. He was forty years old, a man who had held a sword in the hands of a king before he had ever held a rosary, and he knew that the cold in his bones was not merely the winter’s doing but the slow, creeping rot of the sickness that...

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