The Distant Threshold
The banquet hall of the St. Jude’s Orphanage was a cavern of dust and decaying velvet, lit only by the flickering, sickly glow of a single chandelier that hung like a suspended wound from the ceiling. It was a night of no specific year, a temporal pocket where the clock had long since stopped and the seasons had ceased to turn, leaving only a perpetual, gray twilight that pressed against the...
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