The Wistful Throne

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 12:03:53 -

The blood on your uniform is not yours. It is dark, viscous, and warm against the fabric of your tunic. You stand in the center of the grand hall, the chandeliers above you flickering with a sickly, amber light that seems to breathe. The air smells of ozone and old stone. You are a guard. You have always been a guard. Your duty is to the house, to the silence, to the empty chair at the far end...

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