The Wistful Throne
The glass shattered not with a sharp crack, but with a wet, heavy sigh, as if the air itself had exhaled a final, tired breath. In the center of the circular hall, where the marble floor was polished to a mirror-like sheen that reflected the vaulted ceilings above, a thousand fragments of crystal scattered like the scales of a dying fish. Elias Vance did not flinch. He stood with his hands...
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