The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-20 00:51:33 -

The air in the Archive of Eternal Records did not smell of dust, as one might expect from a place that had been accumulating the weight of centuries, but of wet iron and the sweet, cloying rot of overripe pears, a scent that clung to the back of the throat and settled in the lungs with the tenacity of a second skin, and Margaret Holloway stood at the central desk, her hands trembling not from...

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