The Golden Oath
The rain in Seattle did not fall so much as it dissolved, a persistent, gray mist that clung to the skin like a second, colder self. Margaret stood on the corner of Pike Street, her fingers wrapped tightly around the strap of her leather bag, watching the traffic lights cycle through their indifferent colors. Beside her, Elias leaned against the wet brick of the old bookshop, his coat dark with...
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