The Wistful Throne
You are Elias Thorne, and your hand is deep in the mud of the Siege of Oakhaven, gripping the hilt of a sword that has not tasted blood in three days, while the rain hammers the iron of your helm with a rhythm that feels less like weather and more like a warning. The mud is cold and heavy, sucking at your boots with a persistent, viscous grip, and every step you take to hold the line at the...
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