The Distant Threshold

added blog Literature

2026-08-17 23:42:46 -

The rain hit the mud like a punishment. I tasted iron on my tongue. Cold. Sharp. The sword in my hand was heavy. Not with steel. With guilt. I swung. The air tore. A shriek. Not human. Not quite. I kicked the figure back. It dissolved into mist. The mist smelled of rot and old roses. I was alone. Or so I thought. The forest was black. The trees were ribs of the earth. I walked. My boots sank....

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