The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-23 12:30:22 -

The letter lay on the oak desk, the ink still wet and glistening like a bruise. It was a summons, written in the cramped, angular script of Lord Vane, and it cost nothing to read, though it would cost you everything to obey. You, Elias Thorne, forty-two years old and the head archivist of the Duke’s court in Oakhaven, were to present yourself immediately. You knew why. You had not stolen the...

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