The Golden Oath
The fire began not with a spark, but with a scream that tore through the silence of the high table, a sound so raw and human that it seemed to crack the stone walls of the keep. I was standing by the hearth, my hands stained with the dark residue of the night’s labor, when the first ember kissed the tapestry and the world went white. In that instant, the grand hall of Lord Ashworth, with its...
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