The Wistful Mountain

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2026-08-23 06:58:56 -

The air in the Great Hall of the White Tower tasted of copper and ozone, a metallic tang that coated the back of my throat as I watched King Alaric’s chest rise and fall with the labored, shallow rhythm of a dying engine. I stood before the iron brazier, my hands trembling not from fear but from the sheer, technical magnitude of the extraction I was about to perform, for I was Elias, the Court...

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