The Distant Threshold
The order lay on the metal desk, the paper slick with humidity, the ink smudged where Elias Thorne’s thumb had pressed it. It was a standard quarantine directive, stamped with the seal of the Veridia Municipal Health Authority, but the language was wrong. The words *containment* and *sterilization* were used interchangeably, a bureaucratic slip that made the air in the room feel thick and cold....
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