The Distant Threshold
The fog was thick. It tasted of iron. Captain Elias Thorne walked. The boots were heavy. The mud sucked. He pulled free. Step. Step. The road was a ribbon. It vanished into the gray. He carried a sword. The steel was cold. It hummed. A low note. A warning. Who was coming? The mist parted. A figure emerged. It was a child. No. A man. Small. Hunched. The man wore a cloak. It was tattered. The...
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