The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-17 20:58:30 -

The bus smelled of wet wool and diesel, a scent that clung to the back of my throat like a bad taste. I was heading to the St. Jude’s Correctional Facility, a sprawling complex of gray concrete and barbed wire that sat on the edge of the moors like a tumor. I carried a duffel bag that felt heavier than it should, weighted down by the silence inside it. My name is Elias Thorne, and for the last...

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