The Distant Temple
The ledger is heavy, heavier than the badge you’ve worn for twenty years. It smells of dry rot and old sweat, a scent that clings to the back of your throat as you turn the brittle pages. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, and you want to be a farmer by Friday. You want dirt under your fingernails and silence that isn’t enforced by law. But the ledger tells a different story. It tells of...
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