The Distant Temple

added blog Literature

2026-08-24 11:38:42 -

The brass inkwell sat in Elias Vane’s palm, cold as a dead fish. He held it up to the light, checking for leaks, before setting it down on the mahogany desk that smelled of ozone and old pennies. The office was warm, a stifling, humid heat that made the hair on his arms stand up, but the air felt thin, as if the oxygen had been taxed and collected by some invisible authority. He was thirty...

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