The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-17 13:22:24 -

The rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed against the corrugated tin roof of the watchtower, a relentless, hollow rhythm that matched the beating in Elias’s chest. He sat on the wooden floor, his back against the cold stone wall, and stared at the boots. They were heavy, leather things, soaked through and stiff with mud. His wife, Sarah, had polished them every Sunday before he left...

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