The Golden Oath
The rain in Oakhaven did not fall so much as it hovered, a persistent, gray mist that clung to the wool of coats and seeped into the bones of the old stone houses, creating a dampness that felt less like weather and more like a slow, invisible rot. Elias Thorne, the town’s only constable, stood at the window of his small, drafty office, watching the mist swallow the spires of the church, his...
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