The Distant Threshold
The glass beads of the necklace lay scattered across the stone floor of the antechamber, catching the dim, amber light of the candelabras like a constellation of trapped stars, and Edmund stood over them, his hands trembling not with fear but with a profound, hollow exhaustion that seemed to have seeped into the very marrow of his bones, for he had spent forty years weaving illusions out of...
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