The Golden Oath
The road to the highlands is not a road at all, but a scar in the earth, a jagged line of grey stone and crushed shale that weathers against the skin of your boots. You walk with your brother, Thomas, and the air is thin here, sharp enough to taste like copper and old iron. It is the age of the kings, or perhaps the age before them, when the mist did not merely hide the world but swayed it,...
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