The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-17 11:10:33 -

The dream began with the taste of iron. It was a cold, metallic tang, slick as wet slate, that coated the back of my throat before I even opened my eyes. I was lying on the stone floor of the cellar, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and rotting straw. Above me, the low ceiling was a tapestry of shadows, and I could hear the heavy, rhythmic breathing of the house settling in the night....

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