The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-20 17:20:13 -

The frost bit into the wool of my coat, a sharp, physical reminder of the world’s indifference, as we walked the jagged spine of the moor where the sky hung low and bruised, pressing against the heather like a heavy lid. I was tired in a way that sleep could not fix, a bone-deep exhaustion that had settled into my joints during the long, grey weeks of our flight from the hospital wards and the...

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