The Distant Threshold
Elias Thorne counted the hours in the ledger, the ink smudging slightly where his thumb pressed the paper. Three days since the last report. Three days since the fog had turned from a gray veil into a thick, breathing wall that swallowed the road whole. He was thirty-four, a border warden with a pension two years out, and he wanted only for this to be a gas leak. A natural seep. Something...
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