The Golden Oath

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 08:32:15 -

The Golden Oath

The feast was a rotting crown of gold. Candles gutted. Wax pooled like sweat. The hall smelled of roasted boar and old blood. Sir Julian sat at the high table. He did not eat. He watched the light dance in the goblets. He watched the shadows lengthen. He was a hunter. He hunted secrets. He wore a cloak of black velvet. Heavy. Cold. The cloak was his skin. It was his shame. It had been a gift....

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews