The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-23 20:50:35 -

The iron was red-hot, and the smell of it filled the sealed armory like a thick, metallic fog. I hammered the band into shape, the rhythm steady, a heartbeat I had kept for forty years. My hands shook, not from the heat, but from the weight of the silence pressing against the stone walls. Outside, the boots of the King’s guards crunched on the gravel, a sound that grew louder and more...

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