The Golden Oath
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray curtain that blurred the edges of the valley and turned the gravel drive into a sucking morass of mud and broken stone, and as I stood on the porch of the old Ashworth manor, watching the water cascade off the eaves in thick, heavy ropes, I felt the weight of the silence pressing against my eardrums, a silence that was not empty but...
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