The Wistful Throne

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 20:39:17 -

The locket was small. Gold. Tarnished by time and sweat. I held it in my palm. It felt heavy. Heavier than metal should be. It was my father’s. He had worn it for forty years. He had died in the war. I had kept the locket. I wore it every day. It was my anchor. It was my proof. I was the son of a soldier. I was not a coward. I was not a spy. I was not a traitor. The office was cold. The stone...

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