The King of Shadows
by Ayseb – Kurşunkalem
The night had swallowed even its own silence. The moon cast shadows onto the stone floor of the throne hall, where a king sat alone, cloaked in gold-threaded robes heavy with gray weariness.
He did not reach for his sword. Not tonight.
“Did the throne survive… or am I all that remains?” he whispered.
The hall echoed back, empty as always.
His name had long been forgotten. Now, he was only known as:
The King of Shadows.
Once praised for his justice, he had become the prisoner of his own wars.
His orders still echoed in the palace walls, but only memories obeyed now.
That night, the shadows whispered a dream:
“Thrones are temporary, but what is written... is eternal.”
And so the king laid down his sword…
and picked up a pen.
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