The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-18 10:40:02 -

The rain had not stopped in three days. It drummed against the high, vaulted ceilings of the Ministry, a rhythmic pounding that felt less like weather and more like a pulse. You stood in the corridor, your hand resting on the cold iron railing. The air smelled of wet wool and old stone. Below, the atrium was a sea of grey umbrellas. People moved in slow, heavy clusters, their faces hidden by...

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