The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-20 22:15:44 -

The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a grey, suspended curtain that blurred the edges of the city and the mind alike. Marcus Thorne stood in the center of the empty ballroom, the chandeliers above him flickering with a low, dying buzz that sounded like the hum of a hive being crushed underfoot. He was not there to dance, nor to drink, but to wait, his eyes fixed on the small,...

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