The Distant Crown
The gate closes behind you. Steel. Heavy. Final. You are in the Hall. It is not a room. It is a throat. High ceilings. Cold air. The light is white. Sterile. It bleaches the color from the stone. You see the floor. You see the walls. You see the others. They are standing. Rows of them. Uniforms. Dark blue. Shiny buttons. They do not speak. They do not look at you. They look forward. You stand...
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