The Golden Oath
The rain in the city did not fall so much as it hung, a gray, suffocating curtain that pressed the rooftops of the capital down into the wet, rotting earth, blurring the sharp lines of the monuments and the sharp faces of the people who moved through them with the hollowed-out eyes of the damned, and it was in this perpetual, dripping twilight that Sergeant Elias Thorne stood at the threshold...
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