The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-19 23:51:15 -

The iron gate is cold against your palm. It vibrates with a low, humming frequency that you feel in your teeth before you hear it in your ears. You are standing at the threshold of the White Hall. The air here tastes of ozone and old paper. It is the smell of a storm that refuses to break. You have been waiting for this moment for forty years. Or perhaps it is only an hour. Time in the White...

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