The Golden Oath
The furnace coughed. A cloud of white steam hissed into the air, smelling of sulfur and old iron. Elias stood before the gate. It was a barrier of rusted mesh and twisted steel. It marked the edge of the foundry. It marked the edge of his life. He held the pass in his hand. The paper was soft. It had worn thin from being checked. It had worn thin from being held. The ink was fading. The name...
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