The Distant Temple
"It’s just a dye blot, Elias. Look closer." Mara’s voice was soft, a low hum that seemed to vibrate in the glass of the magnifying lamp. I adjusted the focus, the lens clicking with a heavy, mechanical resistance. The silk sash, a strip of midnight blue pulled from the estate of a deceased donor, lay flat on the archival table. It was a beautiful thing, or it had been before the light hit the...
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