The Wistful Throne
The cart leaves the gate. The dust settles. You watch the empty road. It is a Tuesday. The sky is grey. The walls are high. You are alone. Your name is Silas. You are a maker of clocks. Or you were. Now you are a man who watches. The shop is silent. The gears are still. Your wife, Elara, is gone. She went to the city. She said the air here was bad for her lungs. She said the city had better...
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