The Wistful Atlas

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2026-08-17 17:55:45 -

The Wistful Atlas

The chalice broke before the first bell had even ceased its trembling, a sound like a bone snapping inside a ribcage, sharp and final and utterly devoid of apology. I stood in the center of the Obsidian Hall, my fingers still curled around the shards of the King’s own drinking vessel, the jagged edges biting into my palms until the blood beaded up, hot and bright, mixing with the spilled wine...

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