The Wistful Throne
The rain against the stone of the vault was a constant, rhythmic tapping that sounded less like weather and more like the impatient fingers of someone waiting for a door to open, and you sat on the cold floor with your back against the iron gate, watching the water seep through the cracks in the masonry and pool around your boots. You were Elias Thorne, court seer to the Duke of Vane, and you...
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