The Distant Threshold
Chapter One Vasily Fedorov’s hands shook as he lifted the crate, the wood groaning under the weight of the glass inside. He was forty-five, a scholar of antiquities, and he knew the exact moment the sleet outside turned the path to the archive into a deadly slick of ice. The air in the room smelled of brine and old paper, a heavy, wet scent that clung to the wool of his coat. He set the crate...
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