The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-20 14:32:28 -

The feast had lasted three days. The air in the Great Hall of Blackwood Manor was thick with smoke, the scent of roasted boar, and the heavy, cloying perfume of wine that pooled in the cracks of the flagstones. Margaret Holloway sat at the far end of the table, her hands folded in her lap. She did not eat. She watched the bread. It was a simple loaf, dark and dense, baked by the castle’s own...

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