The Distant Crown
The stone beneath your boots is cold, a deep, arterial chill that seeps up through the soles of your boots and settles into the marrow of your legs, a reminder that this place, this vast and echoing cathedral of power, does not belong to you, not truly, for it is built on the bones of those who came before and the silence of those who will come after. You stand at the edge of the great hall,...
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