The Distant Threshold
The stone archway stood alone in the desolate stretch of the border, its limestone surface pitted by decades of wind and rain, humming with a low, physical vibration that Elias Thorne felt in his teeth. He stood with his back to the cold morning air, his hand resting on the worn threshold, listening to the rhythm that matched the erratic, fluttering beat of his daughter’s heart in the hospital...
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