All Stories, Fantasy

Last Words by Dawid Juraszek

Henry’s knuckles turned white as he clutched the scarred armrests, listening. The time has come, he thought. The oakwood throne suddenly seemed little more than a pile of firewood.

But the sound died in the halls.

Henry eyed the heavy old door. It looked forbidding, yet it let everyone come and go. Everyone but him, and him only.

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