The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-19 17:45:13 -

The train cut through the mist like a blade through wet wool. It arrived in Ashwick at dawn, its wheels groaning against the rusted tracks. Margaret Holloway stepped onto the platform. Her suitcase was small. It was red. It looked out of place against the grey slabs of stone. She held it tight. The handle bit into her palm. "Margaret." The voice came from the shadows of the station arch. It was...

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