The Golden Crossing
The seal appears on the back of your left hand, a perfect circle of gold that does not burn but hums with a low, metallic frequency. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, and you have twenty-six days left before you can retire to the sickbed of your father in the village below the ridge. The border is not a line of wire and steel here; it is a valley of mist where the air tastes of iron and old...
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