The Golden Oath
The silence in the basement of the St. Jude’s Orphanage was not empty; it was heavy, a physical weight that pressed against my eardrums, thick with the smell of damp wool and the metallic tang of old iron. I sat alone on the cold stone floor, my back against the brick wall, watching the single, unblinking eye of the canary in its cage. The bird was a vivid, impossible yellow against the grey...
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