The Distant Crown
The hammer fell, and the stone cracked with a sound like a breaking bone. Eamon wiped the grey dust from his brow, his hands trembling not from cold, but from the sheer, terrifying weight of the shard he held. It was a piece of the Sun Crown, the great gilded diadem that sat atop the Temple of Dawn, and it was cold. Not the chill of the winter air that bit through his wool tunic, but a deep,...
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