The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-22 12:58:54 -

The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of Millhaven into slick, treacherous paths and made the air in my quarters smell of wet wool and old dust. I sat at the desk, the silver locket resting in the palm of my left hand, its surface cold to the touch but humming with a faint, sub-audible vibration that I could feel in the marrow of my...

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