The Distant Threshold
The stone arch grinds against the silence of the twilight, a sound like teeth chattering in the dark. You are Elara, thirty-two, and you are standing in the rotting throat of your ancestral home, a place that exists only in the space between waking and sleep. Your mother is dying in the waking world, her breath shallow in the hospital bed, and you need to get out of here to hold her hand before...
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