The Distant Promise
The iron gates of the Blackwood Citadel groaned shut, a sound like the grinding of tectonic plates, sealing Elara within the labyrinthine corridors of her own making. She stood in the antechamber, the cold stone pressing against her spine, feeling the weight of the crownless void where her authority should have been. It had been three days since the abdication, three days since she had walked...
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