The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-18 12:45:57 -

The rain does not fall here; it hangs in the air, a thick, grey mist that smells of wet stone and old iron, clinging to your skin like a second, heavier garment. You are alone in the upper chamber of the Guildhall, a room that has not seen sunlight in a century, and the only light comes from the three tallow candles you have lit on the desk before you. Your hand is steady, though your heart...

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