The Golden Oath
The fire did not roar; it whispered, a dry, rustling exhalation that stripped the timber frame of the mill to its white, skeletal bones before the first alarm siren could even find its voice. Elias Thorne stood on the muddy bank of the river, watching the structure that had defined his life for thirty years collapse into a heap of glowing embers and black ash, the heat of it pressing against...
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