The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-18 13:05:55 -

The rain did not fall. It hovered. I stood in the center of the hall. The stone floor was cold. My boots were wet. The air smelled of wet wool and old iron. I held my sword. My arm did not shake. I was the last. The gate was sealed. "Is it done?" asked a voice. It was low. Rough. It came from the shadows near the door. I did not turn. I looked at the walls. The carvings were deep. They showed...

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