The Distant Promise
The stone is cold. It bites. You hold it. Your hands shake. Not from fear. From weight. The hall is vast. Dark. Candles sputter. Smoke. Ash. Dust. You are the Warden. Old Warden. Gray hair. Tight jaw. He stands before you. Tall. Young. Eyes like flint. Edward. Your son. Or so they say. The court whispers. The King watches. From the throne. High up. Distant. A shadow. You look down. At the...
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