The Golden Oath
You walk toward the house. The road is dirt, pale as bone, stretching out under a sky the color of old bruised plums. You are small. You are twelve. You are running, though your legs feel heavy with the weight of a secret you have carried since the morning your father stopped speaking. The village of Oakhaven lies behind you, silent and grey. Ahead, the structure rises from the mist like a...
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