The Distant Threshold
The low-frequency hum that Elias Thorne heard in his teeth was not a sound in the traditional sense, but a vibration that seemed to originate from the marrow of his own skeleton, a persistent, sub-audible thrum that grew sharper and more insistent as he worked the fine, abrasive dust from the fractured porcelain shards of the mask. He sat in the windowless basement of the Municipal Archives, a...
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