The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-20 02:53:34 -

The frost bit at my knuckles as I held the iron gate. It was a cold, sharp pain. I pulled my hand back. The air tasted of snow and old stone. I was a servant. A minor one. My name was Elias, but the court called me the boy with the shaking hands. That was my title. It stuck to me like wet wool. The palace loomed above the village. It was a jagged tooth in the grey sky. We lived in its shadow....

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