Every Easter, for seventeen years, the Holy Roman Emperor disappeared. He crossed a narrow bridge, entered a tower decorated with topaz and amethyst windows that turned ordinary light into something else, and did not come out until Sunday. His court knew where he was. No one asked why. The question this week is older than the Emperor, older than the castle he built twelve miles outside Prague — and it has never been answered to everyone’s satisfaction. Something was kept in that tower. Something that required a specific architecture to contain it.
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