The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-23 06:27:30 -

The yeast stain was the size of a coin, dark and dry against the white cotton of your apron. You rubbed at it with a wet thumb, but the mark only smeared, spreading its grayish shadow into the weave. Outside, the sky over Millhaven was the color of wet slate, a low, oppressive gray that pressed against the factory windows of the Guild Hall. You had been baking for ten hours, your shoulders...

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