The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-23 13:01:31 -

The iron keys were cold, slick with the condensation of the shaft, and they bit into the meat of my palm as I held them up for Silas to see. I was thirty-four years old, a foreman with a reputation for iron discipline, but my hands were shaking so badly that the brass jingles against the iron like a broken wind chime. The air in the office, a cramped box of wood and oil paint on the second...

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