The Wistful Silence

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 20:49:29 -

The air in the throne room tasted of iron and stale incense. I stood before the High Magistrate. He did not look up. His fingers drummed on the obsidian table, a slow, rhythmic tapping that seemed to count the seconds of my life. The room was vast, cold, and suffocating. Shadows clung to the high arches. My armor clinked softly as I shifted my weight. It was a small sound, but in the silence,...

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