The Distant Crown

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-20 06:01:55 -

The Distant Crown

The ink was drying on the parchment. I watched the wet black letters bleed into the vellum. They spelled *Traitor*. The word was sharp. It cut the air in the silent hall. I held the quill. My hand did not shake. I had trained my hands to be stone. They had to be. The Council of Seven sat in a semicircle. High above us, the chandeliers burned with oil and flame. The light was yellow. It made...

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