The Distant Threshold

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 02:14:54 -

The scratching started at the hour of vespers, a dry, rhythmic scraping against the vellum that sounded exactly like the tip of a quill dragging through a pool of stale ink. I, Elias, sat alone in the damp scriptorium of the Abbey of St. Jude, the air thick with the smell of rotting oak and the metallic tang of fear, my eyes fixed on the blank sheet before me where no hand had touched the page....

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews