The Distant Machine

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2026-08-23 00:41:16 -

The air in the outer courtyard tastes of iron and old rain. I am Elias Thorne, and I am writing this from the stone bench that faces the Royal Mint, where the shadows lengthen with a speed that feels unnatural. My father, King Alistair, lies in the crypt below, his breath thinning by the hour, a rattle in his chest that echoes the low hum of the machinery above. I want to strike the final coin....

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