The Wistful Throne

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 23:16:04 -

The cellar smelled of wet stone and the sharp, metallic tang of rust, a scent that clung to the back of my throat like a bad penny. "Thomas," the voice said, not from the air, but from the iron band wrapped around my finger, cold and wet as a river stone. I looked down at my hand, the signet ring of my father, the Sergeant of the Watch, tarnished black with age and the sweat of my own palm. It...

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