The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-20 21:41:49 -

The mud was black and slick, a viscous thing that clung to my boots like the memory of a sin I had not yet committed, and I stood there in the courtyard of the Inquisition, watching the rain fall with the kind of detached curiosity one reserves for a stranger’s funeral. It was a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday; time had become a slippery concept within these high stone walls, where the only...

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