The Distant Threshold
The rain did not fall so much as it existed, a pervasive, damp weight that pressed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Atrium, blurring the city’s neon skyline into a smear of electric blue and sickly yellow. Elias Thorne stood alone in the center of the marble expanse, his back to the glass, his hands clasped behind him with the rigid formality of a man who had long since memorized the...
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