The Distant Temple

added blog Literature

2026-08-24 18:59:04 -

The nib of the quill was cold, a shard of obsidian that bit into the fleshy pad of your thumb, and the ink was not black but a rusted, arterial red that smelled of iron and old pennies. You held your hand over the parchment, the skin of your wrist translucent and mapped with veins that had turned the color of bruised plums, and you thought of the debt. Three hundred silver marks. That was what...

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