The Distant Threshold
The silver dagger slips from your fingers, the impact of the shattering frame ringing out like a church bell in a dead cathedral, and you stand in the throne room of Oakhaven, breathing hard, watching the glass bleed a slow, viscous red across the ancient stone floor. You are Elias, forty-two years old, the Court Seer, and for three years you have been bound to this room, tethered to the duty...
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