The Distant Threshold
The ink is dry, but the page is wet. I am Elias, forty-two, a scribe in the high tower of Oakhaven, and I am here to copy the final page of the *Codex Aeterna*. I need the pension. I need it to pay for Mara’s grave, though the ground refuses to hold her. The Hollow is waiting. It is a silence that eats sound and memory, a void that has swallowed my wife three years ago. It expands when spoken...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews