The Golden Oath
The bell in the Great Hall of the Abbey of St. Jude did not ring; it screamed. It was a sound that tore through the damp stone and the smell of tallow, a shriek that silenced the low murmur of the monks and the scratching of quills. Brother Elias stood at the head of the refectory, his hands resting on the heavy oak table. He was an old man, his skin like parchment stretched over wire, and his...
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