The Distant Crown
The dream began with the weight of iron, a cold, circular pressure against the throat that felt less like a weapon and more like a sentence. It was not the rough, rusted iron of the blacksmith’s forge, but something polished to a mirror finish, reflecting a face that was not entirely his own. Aldous Vane woke before the alarm, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs, the phantom...
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