The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-21 09:51:21 -

The glass shattered before I could blink. It was a small thing, really. A pane from the conservatory door. It had been cracked for weeks, a spiderweb of white lines running from the handle. I held the shards in my bare hands. The blood ran down my wrist. I did not feel the pain. I felt the cold air. It smelled of wet iron and old dust. I am Arthur Vane. I serve the House of Alder. The room was...

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