The Distant Crown
Can a building remember a lie? Emine Ozdemir stood in the shadow of the Grand Hall, where the air hummed with a low frequency that rattled her teeth. She was twelve years old, small enough to fit into the cracks of the stone floor, and she needed a job to keep the heat on. The Hall whispered her name, a sound like grinding stone, and it grew louder when she claimed to be honest. She wanted to...
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