The Golden Oath
The road to the Citadel of Aethelgard was not a path of dirt and stone, but a ribbon of woven light that hummed against the soles of Thomas’s boots. He walked with his head low, his shoulders hunched against the wind that smelled of ozone and old blood. In his satchel, the jar rattled. It was a heavy, thick glass vessel, sealed with wax the color of a bruised plum. Inside, the Elixir of Truth...
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