The Distant Threshold

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 05:40:56 -

The banquet hall of the Citadel of St. Jude smelled of roasted pheasant, burnt honey, and the metallic tang of old blood that had seeped into the flagstones centuries ago and could not be scrubbed away, no matter how many generations of servants had dragged their mops across the cold, grey stone in the blue hours before dawn. Margot sat at the head of the long oak table, her hands folded...

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