The Distant Crown
The rain fell on the grey streets of the city with a persistent, hollow rhythm, a sound that had long since replaced the memory of birdsong in the mind of Julian Thorne. He stood at the edge of the cobblestone square, his back to the wet, glistening crowd, his hands hanging loose at his sides, fingers slightly curled as if still gripping the hilt of a sword that had been stripped from his...
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