The Distant Garden

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2026-08-19 17:06:22 -

The air in the Hall of the Iron Lilies was thick with the scent of roasting beef and the metallic tang of ambition. It was a feast not of food, but of hierarchy, where every clink of cutlery against porcelain sounded like a hammer striking an anvil. In the center of this gilded cage sat Elias Thorne, a man whose shoulders were broad as a barn door and whose hands, wrapped in white linen,...

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