The Golden Oath
The object sat on the steel desk of the Department of Anomalous Containment, a brass astrolabe no larger than a human skull. It was cold to the touch, a weight that seemed to pull at the marrow of my hand. I held it because I was the only one in the building who could feel the hum. The rest of the staff saw a piece of antiques, a curiosity for the archive. I saw a mouth. The room was sterile,...
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