The Distant Temple
The ink is moving again, Elias, and you know what that means. Sarah’s voice cut through the low, omnipresent static of the municipal library, a sound like a radio tuned between stations, her face pale in the amber glow of the desk lamp. You looked down at the open volume, the *Temple* collection, and watched the black letters crawl upward from the page, defying the pull of the earth, a...
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