The Distant Threshold
The fog did not roll in so much as it seeped up from the black, oily water, a thick, grey wool that swallowed the world whole until only the immediate, suffocating reality remained. Elias Thorne stood on the edge of the pier, his boots sinking into the wet timber, his hand resting on the cold iron of the gate that separated the town from the sea. He was a man carved from the same grey stone as...
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