The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-20 19:21:21 -

The mud is cold. It bites into your boots. You are running. Your lungs burn. The air tastes of iron and wet stone. Behind you, the thing screams. It is not a scream of flesh. It is a scream of void. You know this. You have always known this. Your name is not important. Your rank is not important. You are a soldier. You are a man. You are being hunted. The forest is dense. The trees are black...

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