The Distant Threshold
The iron keys are heavy in your hand, heavier than the iron bars they were forged to lift, heavier than the silence that has settled into the marrow of your bones since you last spoke to your sister, Elara, who is currently being processed through the intake wing of the St. Jude’s Asylum for the Morally Infirm and Physically Debilitated. You hold the keys up to the gray, weeping light of the...
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