The Distant Crown

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2026-08-21 17:48:41 -

The Distant Crown

The feast was a wound in the dark. Candles burned low in the hall of Blackwood Keep. The air was thick with the smell of roasting boar and stale wine. It was a thick, suffocating scent. It clung to the throat. I sat at the high table. My hands were still. They had to be still. I was a guest. I was a exile. I was a ghost wearing the skin of a man named Thomas Bradshaw. Across the table, Eleanor...

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