The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-21 17:01:09 -

The dream began not with a sound but with a texture, the rough, fibrous grit of a branch pressed against the palm of my hand, a sensation so immediate and visceral that I woke with the bark still embedded in the creases of my skin, a phantom pain that lingered like the aftertaste of iron. I was Edward Ashworth, or I believed I was, standing in the center of a cathedral that did not exist in any...

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