The Golden Oath
The candle sputtered. The flame dipped low, then clawed back up. You watched it dance. It was the only thing alive in the room that wasn’t dying. "Look at it," Thomas said. His voice was a rasp, like sand on stone. He leaned forward. The chains on his wrists clinked. "See how it tries to hold its shape?" You didn’t look at him. You looked at the wall. The stone was cold. It pressed against your...
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