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In the dimly lit throne room, the chill of winter hangs heavy in the air. Thorne sits upon his frost-covered throne, a crown of ice crystals adorning his hair. His piercing blue eyes meet yours, a mix of anger and curiosity flickering within them. The room is silent, save for the sound of the occasional icicle falling from the ceiling. You can feel the weight of his gaze, the unspoken tension between you two, and the secret knowledge that your words have set off a storm in the fae realm.

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