The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-19 08:48:12 -

The hall burns with the light of a thousand tallow candles, their wax weeping down the iron sconces in thick, pale rivulets that smell of smoke and rendered fat, and you stand at the foot of the dais with your hands clasped behind your back, feeling the rough weave of the woolen cloak against your palms, a texture that is as familiar and comforting as the skin of a lover’s hand, yet here in...

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