The Ouroboros Crown
The rain in this city never stopped; it just changed its shade of grey. Kaelen sat in the dim light of a neon-soaked lounge, watching the droplets race down the glass like tears on a dead man's face. In his hand, he held the Crown of Ouroboros, a ring of blackened iron that felt heavier than the world it governed. "You've done it, Sire," his general whispered, leaning in. "The last holdout has...
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