The Golden Crossing

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2026-08-20 10:57:03 -

The sword in Elowen’s hand was not steel, but a shard of frozen breath, brittle and singing with a high, thin note that vibrated against her teeth. She stood in the center of the Great Hall, a cathedral of stone and starlight that had no ceiling, only the infinite, churning void of the cosmos pressing down from above. Around her, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and old parchment. Her...

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