The Distant Threshold
The memo was stapled to the intake form, the paper yellowing at the edges where the damp had settled, and I read it three times before my hand began to shake. It was a standard transfer notice, unsigned, but the seal was fresh, the wax dark and glistening in the low light of the archive. I had spent twenty years in this building, twenty years of clearing the fog from the port city of Greyhaven,...
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