The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-18 16:21:57 -

The rain fell like iron filings. It slicked the flagstones of the Hall of Whispers, turning the ancient stone into a mirror of grey sky and dying light. Elara stood in the center of the chamber. She was not a queen. She was a shadow given form, a wisp of the old magic that had been hunted from the highlands for three centuries. Her skin was the color of ash. Her eyes were hollow pits of white...

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