The Distant Threshold
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the gravel drive into a slurry of mud and gray stone, and you stood at the entrance of the house with your hands clasped behind your back, feeling the damp seep into the wool of your sleeves, a cold that seemed to radiate not from the weather but from the very foundation of the earth beneath you. You were here to serve the estate, or rather, you...
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