The Distant Threshold
The mist clung to the valley floor like a shroud. It was thick. It was cold. I stood alone at the edge of the cliff. The wind bit through my wool uniform. I was the Warden. I was the eye of the Crown. And I was afraid. Below, the castle slept. It was a beast of stone and shadow. It had stood for a thousand years. It would stand for a thousand more. That was the lie they told me. The trees at...
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