The Golden Oath
The iron spike of the guard’s halberd had pierced the soft flesh of Elara’s shoulder, pinning her to the rough-hewn oak door of the sanctuary, and she did not cry out, for the pain was a dull, heavy thing that had long since ceased to be a signal of injury and had instead become the very substance of her being, a cold weight that anchored her to the earth while the air around her hummed with...
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