The Distant Crown
The dream was always the same. Cold stone. The taste of iron in his mouth. The sound of a thousand boots striking in unison, a rhythm that did not belong to any single man but to the city itself. Warden Silas Thorne woke with a gasp, his hand already reaching for the heavy iron keyring at his belt. It was not there. He was in his quarters, the high window of the Keep overlooking the grey sprawl...
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