The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-20 14:50:46 -

The banquet hall smelled of roasted goose and old wood. Candles guttered. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of perfume and anxiety. Margaret sat at the head of the table. She wore black. It was not for mourning. It was for authority. Her men stood by the walls. They wore dark suits. They looked like shadows. Their hands rested near their belts. They did not look at the guests. They looked...

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