The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-21 20:59:17 -

You stand in the center of the rotunda. The floor is cold marble. It reflects your face, but the reflection is wrong. It lags. It bleeds. You are a detective. Or you were. The badge is heavy on your chest. It feels like a stone. A paperweight. The air is thick. It tastes of ozone and old copper. This is the Ministry. Not a building. A state. A mind. "Officer," a voice says. It comes from...

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