The Distant Crown
The silver crown sat in Elias Thorne’s palm, cold and fractured, its three main bands separated by gaps wide enough to fit a finger through. He stood in the center of the ballroom at the Vane Estate, the chandelier above casting a web of light across the dust motes that hung suspended in the stagnant air. The crowd had moved away from him, a ring of silk and wool creating a vacuum around his...
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