The Distant Threshold
The bell in the belfry of Saint Jude’s did not ring; it screamed, a jagged, tearing sound that ripped through the fog-choked air of the city and settled into the marrow of my bones, a physical weight that pressed against the ribs and squeezed the breath from the lungs, leaving only the taste of copper and old dust on the tongue. I stood in the narrow alley behind the tannery, the smell of lye...
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