The Golden Oath
The cellar smelled of damp stone and the sweet, cloying rot of overripe pears, a scent that had permeated the very fibers of Master Aldous’s robes until he could taste the decay on his own tongue, a bitter sweetness that clung to the back of his throat like a secret too heavy to speak. He stood before the great iron-bound door, his hands trembling not with fear but with a profound, almost...
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