The Distant Temple
The glass cracked at 9:14 AM. It was a hairline fracture, no wider than a wire, running diagonally across the surface of the Temple of Echoes. Elias Thorne did not flinch. He adjusted his spectacles, noting the timestamp in his logbook with the precise, mechanical calm that had secured his tenure for the last twenty years. The artifact, a translucent monolith of unknown origin, hummed. It was a...
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