The Golden Oath
The ink bled into the parchment not as a mark, but as a wound, spreading its violet tendrils across the surface of the official decree until the words themselves seemed to dissolve into a bruise on the skin of the law. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the Hall of Jurisprudence, a vast, circular chamber suspended in a void of swirling mist where the floor was made of polished obsidian and the...
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