The Distant Threshold
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of the old village into slick, dark mirrors reflecting the pale, exhausted sky, and it was through this persistent, washing wetness that Elias Thorne, the new constable of the manor, began his slow and inevitable descent into the labyrinth of the house itself, a structure of stone and shadow that...
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