The Wistful Throne
The summons came not as a letter, but as a shout from the top of the stone steps, cutting through the damp morning air of the lower city. "Kaelen! You are summoned to the High Court. Do not be late, or do not return at all." The voice belonged to a guard, bored and loud, and it sent a jolt of cold electricity up Kaelen’s spine. He stood in the alley, holding a bucket of grey sludge, his hands...
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