The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-17 17:20:52 -

The road was white. Not with snow, but with chalk. We walked in single file. The dust coated my teeth. It tasted of lime and old bones. I was the third in line. Before me, Silas. Behind me, Thomas. We carried the jars. Glass, heavy, sealed with wax. Inside, the medicine. The Citadel of St. Jude stood at the hill’s peak. It was a fortress of white stone. The gates were closed. The guards waited....

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