The Wistful Throne
Act I Hiwot Kebede shoved the rusted bolt of the comms relay shed, the metal groaning against his palms as the dry wind cracked the clay outside, and he pulled the heavy coat from the hook, the fabric still humming with a warmth that defied the freezing draft. He had traveled ninety-six kilometers to Zewdit to retrieve his father’s final manuscript, a task that felt less like archival work and...
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