The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-22 16:01:47 -

The rain in Oakhaven did not fall so much as it descended, a thick, grey curtain that smelled of wet limestone and old grief, and Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the village square, his hand tight around the iron key that had grown cold against his palm over the last twenty years. He was a stonemason, a man whose life was measured in chisel marks and the weight of granite, yet he felt lighter...

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