The Wistful Throne

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 02:40:46 -

The iron bit in my mouth tasted of rust. I sat in the dark. My hands were bound. The leather bit tight. It cut my wrists. I did not bleed. Not yet. The city hummed outside. A low, sick drone. It vibrated in my bones. The Warden stood by the door. He was tall. He wore silver. It reflected the blue light. "Is it done?" he asked. His voice was flat. Dead. "I don't know," I said. My throat was...

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