The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-22 11:33:26 -

The candle wax pooled on the oak table, a slow, amber bleed that mirrored the dampness seeping into the stone floor of the Inquisition’s lower archive. Silas Vane adjusted the leather binding of his ledger, his fingers stiff and deliberate, fighting the tremor that had become his constant companion since the winter he first heard the whispers in the walls. He was forty years old, a man carved...

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