The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-20 14:20:24 -

The glass in the windowpane was old. It rippled like water held still by a heavy hand. Elias stood before it, his reflection warped, stretched into a thin, trembling figure. He was sixty-three years old. His knees ached when the air turned cold. He moved slowly through the room. The room was small. It smelled of dust and dried lavender. Outside, the city slept. The streetlamps buzzed. They were...

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