The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-23 10:54:32 -

The knife is cold, heavier than it looks, its edge dull from years of cutting parchment rather than flesh. You hold it in your right hand, the one that has written ten thousand lines of the King’s history, and the left hand is raised, palm open, waiting for the pain. The air in the Obsidian Citadel is thick, smelling of dried ink and the metallic tang of old blood. You are Elara, thirty-two,...

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