The Wistful Campus
The seal is a circle of black iron, etched with a serpent eating its own tail. It sits in the center of your palm, cold and unyielding, a weight that has nothing to do with mass and everything to do with history. You are Captain Elias Thorne, and you are kneeling in the damp moss of the King’s private garden, the stone beneath your knees slick with the sweat of the dying afternoon. The air...
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