The Wistful Throne
The tower stood against the sky like a broken tooth. It was gray. It was cold. It was theirs. Tobias looked up. He was small. The stone was huge. He felt the chill in his bones. The wind bit. It had no mouth. It only tore. The Court of Whispers ruled from the top. They wore silk. They wore crowns. They did not bleed. Tobias was a scribe. He was a tool. His hands were stained with ink. The ink...
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