The Golden Oath
The road out of Aethelgard was not paved with stone but with the compressed silence of those who had already forgotten how to speak, and I walked it alone with the weight of my own breath the only companion that did not judge the dust kicked up by my sandals. The air tasted of ozone and old parchment, a dry, metallic tang that coated the back of my throat as I approached the Great Hall, a...
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