The Distant Threshold
The iron shank bites the soil with a rhythmic, metallic shriek that vibrates up through your palms and settles deep in the marrow of your forearms. You are digging. You have been digging since the sun broke the horizon, and the earth offers up no resistance, only a cold, wet surrender. The village of Oakhaven lies behind you, a smear of slate and smoke under the low, bruised sky, but here, in...
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