The Wistful Saga
The carriage wheels ground against the frozen ruts of the approach road, a harsh, rhythmic scraping that seemed to announce Elias Thorne’s arrival to every shadowed window of the Winter Palace. He was thirty-two years old, a man whose spine had been bent not by age but by the crushing weight of his father’s debts, and he had come to this isolated seat of power in the autumn of 1893 with a...
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