The Golden Oath
The alarm did not ring so much as it shuddered, a low-frequency hum that vibrated in the fillings of Elias Thorne’s teeth and settled into the marrow of his bones, a physical weight that pressed against the glass walls of the laboratory until the panes wept with condensation. It was a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday; the calendar on the wall had long since lost its authority over the flow of...
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