The Wistful Throne
The seal broke at dawn. Captain Elias Thorne stood in the center of the Great Hall, his hand still raised in the salute he had given to a ghost. The wax crest of the King, pressed into the parchment, had shattered. It did not peel away. It exploded. Fragments of crimson and gold flew like shrapnel, piercing the air, embedding themselves in the stone floor, in the velvet curtains, in the skin of...
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