The Golden Oath
The rain does not fall so much as it is exhaled by the sky, a heavy, grey breath that soaks into the stone of the keep and the mud of the courtyard, blurring the line between the earth and the heavens. You are on your knees, the wet grass biting into your shins, your hands pressed flat against the cold ground, and your fingers are trembling not from fear, but from the sheer, crushing weight of...
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