The Distant Threshold
Elias Thorne woke with the taste of rust on his tongue. The dream was the same as it had been for three years: a black iron gate standing alone in a field of white ash, the hinges silent, the bars waiting. In the dream, the gate opened only for him, a promise of passage that never materialized because he was always too far away. He sat up in the narrow cot of his bunk, the canvas sheet tangled...
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