The Wistful Throne
The dream began, as it always did, with the sensation of weight, a dense and crushing gravity that pulled my limbs toward the floor of the cellar, a place I had not physically entered in forty years but which my subconscious had mapped with the precision of a surveyor. I was not alone in that subterranean darkness, for the air was thick with the presence of the others, the great and terrible...
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