The Distant Threshold
The winter solstice arrives not as a date on a calendar but as a weight in the air, a thickening of the silence that presses against the stone of the Gate of Aethelgard, and you stand before it with your hands pressed flat against the cold granite, feeling the slow, rhythmic pulse of the masonry beneath your palms, a heartbeat that matches your own only when the seal is intact. You are Elias,...
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