The Golden Oath
The rain fell in sheets, cold and relentless, turning the moor into a slurry of mud and bone. Captain Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the cliff, his boots sinking into the wet earth. He held his rifle steady. The metal was slick with condensation. His finger rested on the trigger. It was a heavy weight. A familiar weight. "Are you certain, Elias?" The voice came from behind him. Old Silas...
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