The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-20 04:01:06 -

You are standing in the dark, and the dark is not empty. It is heavy with the scent of wet stone and old iron, a smell that clings to the back of your throat like a physical weight. You are the Warden, though the title has long since outgrown the man who wears it. You hold the key. It is not a metal key, nor a bone, but a shard of glass, jagged and cold, cut from the window of the chapel where...

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