The Distant Threshold
The third crack ran through the obsidian like a vein of lightning frozen in stone. You count the fractures. One, two, three. The mirror sits on the damp flagstones of the watchtower, its surface black and deep, reflecting nothing but the grey sky and your own hollow face. You are Elias, a man of thirty-two years, and the weight of the stone slab is heavier than it has ever been. It is not the...
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