The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-22 04:10:10 -

The mirror had been my father’s before it was the house’s, and before that, it had been the world’s. It stood in the hallway of the old mill, a tall, rectangular slab of glass framed in tarnished silver, its surface no longer a window into the self but a graveyard of reflections. I had been walking for three days, the soles of my boots worn thin against the gravel roads of the English...

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