The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-19 07:09:09 -

The banquet hall smelled of wet wool and iron. We ate. We drank. The candles burned low. The air was thick. It pressed against my lungs. I was a soldier. I wore the grey coat. The buttons were brass. They were cold. I looked at my hands. They were still. They were not shaking. Not yet. The room was full. Men sat in rows. They wore the same grey. They had the same faces. Pale. Hollow. They ate...

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