The Golden Oath
The iron bit was in my mouth, and the taste of blood was thick on my tongue. I was not a horse, but I felt the weight of the harness pressing against my ribs, the way the leather bit into my gums. I am not human. I have never been human. I am a creature of the hearth, born from the soot and the silence of the old kitchens, and for three hundred years I have worn the shape of a maid named Elara....
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