The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-18 23:57:06 -

The rain did not fall so much as it was pressed against the windowpanes of the high tower, a cold and persistent hand seeking warmth that would never be given. Sir Julian stood alone in the center of the circular room, his back to the iron door, his hands resting on the hilt of a sword that had not been drawn in three years. The air smelled of wet stone and old incense, a scent that clung to...

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