The Distant Temple
The Abbot’s voice cut through the silence of the infirmary, sharp and final, like a blade drawn across stone. "Elias, you will remain until your lungs collapse, or until the Breath takes you, whichever comes first." Brother Elias, forty years old and possessed of a cough that had hollowed his cheeks into two dark caves, looked up from the ledger he was keeping. The ledger was a useless thing...
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