The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-17 21:29:05 -

The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended mist that clung to the damp wool of Cillian’s greatcoat and seeped into the marrow of his bones, turning the cobblestones of the lower city into slick mirrors that reflected the jagged, neon-drenched skyline of the High Spire above. He stood at the threshold of the Obsidian Hall, the air inside thick with the scent of stale...

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