The Distant Crown

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2026-08-25 07:11:12 -

The Distant Crown

Act I "You're late, Michael." The voice cut through the damp air of the attic, sharp as a whetstone on rust. Michael Brannigan stood in the doorway, rain dripping from his coat onto the warped floorboards. He was forty-two, though the lines around his eyes suggested a man who had spent decades reading small print in bad light. In his hand, he clutched a shard of black obsidian, cold and jagged,...

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