Chapter 15 · free to read
Four hundred years of a man not moving had left a shape in the rock. It was his size.
Not a cell. A fitting. Something had been bolted in here, load-bearing, and the load had nowhere to go now.
The court had always known what a null was for. That was the whole horror of it. They were not afraid of him — they had a vacancy, and they had been keeping the post open.
The old anchor had been pulled out four days ago because it had finally, after four hundred years, worn through. The rite to seat a new one was already drawn.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.