The Distant Temple

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2026-08-24 19:42:53 -

The count of the sacks was forty-three, a number that felt heavy in Thomas Hale’s mind even before he lifted the first one, the grain spilling over the rim in a dry, rustling cascade that sounded like dry leaves skittering across a grave. He was forty years old, and his hands, usually steady enough to draw a longbow in a gale, trembled with a cold that had settled deep into his marrow since...

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