The Pale Shadows
The air in the throne room was not cold, but it felt like it, a dry chill that settled in the marrow of Elias Thorne’s bones as he stood alone before the empty dais. He was thirty-four, a captain in the Imperial Guard, and his left hand trembled so violently that the hilt of his ceremonial sword rattled against his thigh, a sound like a bone breaking in a quiet house. He had come here to...
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