The Golden Oath
The feast in the Great Hall of Blackwood Manor was not a celebration of life, but a ritual of exhaustion, where the air hung thick with the scent of roasted pheasant, spiced wine, and the underlying, metallic tang of old blood that seemed to seep from the very stone walls, a scent that Elara had long since learned to breathe through without flinching, her eyes fixed on the centerpiece of the...
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