The Golden Oath
The feast was not merely an event, it was a geological stratum of noise and light, a suffocatingly vibrant stratum of heat and perfume that pressed against the skin of every soul gathered within the vaulted, shadow-drenched corridors of the Citadel of Aethelgard, where the air itself seemed to hum with the low-frequency thrum of ancient magic and the sharp, metallic tang of fear that had been...
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