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... eneath layers of rot and madness, stood a throne—twisted, ancient, forged from the bones of fallen kings and bound in the sinews of regret.
Upon it sat a figure draped in writhing black robes, shadows pulsing with malignant life around him. The air was thick with decay, the silence broken only by the low groans of something breathing within the walls.
Before the throne, a man knelt—body trembling, sweat soaking his tattered robes. He dared not raise his head.
The figure s ...
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