The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-18 12:51:00 -

The blade was in the wall. Not a pin. A blade. Steel. Cold. It gleamed. Marcus stood still. His boots were muddy. Mud from the yard. Mud from the fight. He looked at the blade. He looked at the door. The door was locked. From the inside. He knew that. He knew the lock. He had installed it. Three days ago. His hands shook. Not from fear. From exhaustion. The bone in his shoulder ached. A dull,...

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