The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-18 13:42:36 -

The feast was not a celebration. It was a calibration. The hall hummed with low frequency. A drone. The air tasted of ozone and copper. Margaret sat at the center of the circular table. Her chair was cold steel. The metal bit into her thighs. She did not shift. Shifting was inefficient. Shifting was human. Humans failed. Around her, the others waited. They wore suits. The fabric was synthetic....

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