The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-25 12:36:19 -

"Elias. Sit down." The voice came from the shadows at the far end of the hall, low and rough, like gravel shifting under a boot. I froze, my quill hovering above the parchment. The ink was wet. It was always wet. I lowered the pen and slid into the chair opposite the King. The chair was cold. It had been cold for three years, ever since Mara stopped sitting there. I looked at the empty seat....

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