The Wistful Throne
The bell of the Iron Spire did not ring to summon the faithful, but to mark the severing of the world, a deep, resonant toll that vibrated in the marrow of my bones and shook the dust from the rafters of the council chamber, where the air had grown thick with the scent of ozone and stale incense, and we, the Binders, stood in a semicircle of gray wool and leather, our hands raised not in prayer...
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