The Distant Threshold
The fog that rolled in from the harbor did not merely obscure the streets of St. Jude’s; it swallowed them, turning the gaslit thoroughfares into a viscous, gray soup where the cobblestones dissolved into the mist and the air tasted of brine, coal smoke, and the metallic tang of impending rain. It was a city that breathed in silence, a labyrinth of narrow alleys and towering, soot-stained brick...
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