The Distant Crown

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2026-08-20 12:00:10 -

The Distant Crown

You stand at the edge of the river, the water black and still as polished obsidian, reflecting not the sky but a deeper, older darkness that seems to pull at your ankles like a drowning man’s hand, and you are waiting for the bell to toll, though no church stands within a mile of where you kneel in the mud, for the sound is not in the air but in the marrow of your bones, a low, resonant thrum...

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