The Distant Threshold
The road to the Abbey of Saint Clement was not merely a path but a wound in the earth, a ribbon of packed clay that wound through the mist-choked valleys of the highlands. Master Elias Thorne traveled it on foot, his boots worn thin, his satchel heavy with the weight of his life’s work. He was a man of letters, a scholar of the old tongues, sent by the distant universities to assess the relics...
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