The Distant Threshold
The glass shattered not with a singular, deafening crack, but with a long, high-pitched keen that seemed to split the air itself, sending a million crystalline shards flying outward into the gloom of the workshop like a burst of frozen starlight, and Elara Vance stood frozen in the center of the room, her hands still raised in the delicate, trembling gesture of a conjurer who had just invoked a...
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