The Wistful Throne

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 12:49:39 -

The gold was cold. It was colder than the stone floor. Colder than my breath. I held it in my palm. It burned. Not with heat. With weight. With history. I was awake. Or I was not. The dream had teeth. It chewed on the edges of my mind. I could feel the texture of the metal. The grain of the metal. It was a coin. Or a button. Or a seed. I looked up. The room was vast. The walls were made of fog....

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