PREVIEW
... ed ribs before blooming in the floor beneath Cyran's boots. Shelves rattled; chains of copper charms clinked a nervous chime; half-melted candles bled wax in trembling rivulets. The scrying basin mirrored the violence. Every strike sent haphazard ripples across its mercury surface, bending the reflected scene into frantic fragments—the Storm Crown, the hemorrhaging heart-stone, the king's warped silhouette howling at unseen traitors.
Cyran fixed both hands on the basin's rim to anchor hi ...
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