The Distant Threshold
The iron rings of the cell door groaned against the stone, a sound that was not quite metal but something closer to the grinding of tectonic plates, deep and seismic, vibrating through the soles of Thomas’s bare feet and up into the marrow of his shins, while the candle he had stolen from the refectory flickered in the draft, casting long, trembling shadows that danced with the erratic rhythm...
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