The Golden Oath
The sword is heavy. It is heavier than your arm. It is heavier than the rain that falls in sheets of iron. You are bleeding. The blood is red. The rain is grey. The ground is mud. It smells of wet wool and old fear. You are twelve. You are small. The enemy is not a man. The enemy is a mirror. You see your own face in the steel. It is cracked. It is weeping. It is holding the sword back. You do...
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