The Wistful Skyline
The king sat upon the high throne, carved from a single block of obsidian that seemed to drink the light rather than reflect it, and he looked at the woman who stood before him with the stillness of a stone that has been waiting for centuries to be cut. She was not a queen, nor a princess, nor even a noblewoman of the old blood, but a stranger from the lands beyond the mist, a woman whose skin...
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