The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-23 10:16:02 -

The dream always ends the same way, with Silas standing in the grey fog of the kitchen, his face a smear of memory, holding out a shard of black glass that tastes of iron on your tongue, and you wake with the cold weight of his hand still pressed against your shoulder, a sensation so real it leaves a bruise on your skin that does not fade. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, a constable...

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