The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-24 09:21:50 -

You dream of the bridge. It is made of black stone, slick with rain, and the water below is not water but ink, swirling with the names of those who have lied and been caught. You are standing on it, and the wind is pulling at your coat, and you are holding a cup that is empty, yet you feel the weight of it in your hand. You wake in the narrow bed of your scribe’s quarters, the air thick with...

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