The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-18 03:19:39 -

The rain hit the cobblestones. It did not fall. It struck. Each drop a hammer. Each splash a shout. Silas stood at the gate. He wore the gray coat. The coat was old. The buttons were brass. They were cold to the touch. He waited. He always waited. This was his duty. This was his life. The town of Oakhaven slept. Or pretended to. The lights in the windows were off. The shadows were long. The...

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