The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-21 09:47:20 -

The rain hit the slate roof of the Keep in a rhythm that sounded less like weather and more like a warning. It was a drumming, a relentless, wet percussion that seeped into the stones and chilled the marrow of my bones. I stood at the head of the long oak table, the wood scarred by centuries of blades and spilled wine, and watched the steam rise from the iron cauldron in the center of the room....

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