The Distant Threshold
The town of Oakhaven did not experience time so much as it endured it, the seasons blurring into a perpetual, damp twilight that clung to the stone walls and the wool coats of its residents. In the center of this stagnation stood the Archive, a building that smelled of vinegar and decay, where Elias Thorne, the chief archivist, sat hunched over a desk that was less a workspace and more a altar...
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