The Pale Bridge
The first thing Elias saw was the smell. Not smoke, not rot, but the sharp, metallic tang of copper and old blood. It hung in the air of the Great Hall, thick enough to taste, coating the back of his tongue. He stood at the bottom of the marble steps, his shoes slick with something dark and viscous. Above him, the King sat on the throne, though he was not a man anymore. He was a statue of flesh...
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