The Distant Crown
The castle stood on the cliff like a broken tooth, grey and jagged against the slate sky, and I had climbed the muddy path to its gates for the third time that autumn. My name was Elias, and I was twelve years old, with mud caked into the creases of my knuckles and a hunger in my belly that felt less like a need for food and more like a void that swallowed my thoughts. I was not a soldier, nor...
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