The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-20 09:20:00 -

You are a child of ink and silence. Your fingers are stained, not with dirt, but with the black residue of secrets. You live in the high tower of the city, a place of glass and stone where the wind screams like a wounded beast. Below, the streets are empty. The war has not come. Not yet. But it is in the air. It tastes of copper and old blood. You are seven. You are small. You are the keeper of...

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