The Golden Oath
The iron clasp of the collar was cold against my throat, a weight that had become as familiar to me as the rhythm of my own breathing. It was not merely a restraint; it was the architecture of my identity, the singular point where the flesh of the world met the unyielding logic of the Institution. I am Elias Vane, and for the last three years, I have lived inside the perimeter of the Grey Hall,...
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