The Distant Threshold
The iron of the blade did not sing against the bone of the beast, but rather a low, grinding groan of metal against metal, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the marrow of Aldric’s left arm and up into the hollows of his teeth where the cold air of the twilight hour bit with a ferocity that felt personal and malevolent. He stood in the center of the circular clearing, a space that was not...
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